


i'm at the point of breaking (and it's impossible to shake it)

by collegefangirl3791, skywalking-across-the-galaxy (BadWolfGirl01)



Series: these battle scars [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka Tano Needs a Hug, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And some therapy, Angsty Schmoop, Clone Wars, Declarations Of Love, Depression, Electrocution, Emotional Manipulation, Episode: s04e12 Slaves of the Republic, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Force Bond (Star Wars), Heavy Angst, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Introspection, Kadavo, Literal Sleeping Together, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Pain, Serious Injuries, Slavery, The Force, Torture, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violence, Whump, slavery is not fun, this fic got out of hand, this fic is intense, zygerrians are assholes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-19 14:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 42,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14239155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collegefangirl3791/pseuds/collegefangirl3791, https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolfGirl01/pseuds/skywalking-across-the-galaxy
Summary: “Planetside to Snips,” Anakin says, waving his hand in front of her face; she blinks, tries not to jump back.“Yes, Master?”He just looks at her. “Were you listening to any of that?”Shavit, she needs to think of an excuse. “I was… well, looking for the Togrutans. I can’t feel any Force-signatures,” she explains, and hopes that’s true, since she hasn’t lowered her shields enough to tell.“Hmm, you’re right,” Obi-Wan says after a moment of concentration. “That’s… odd.”“That doesn’t fit,” Rex says, and she can tell by his tone that he’s frowning thoughtfully inside his helmet. “Clankers are never shy about using civvies as a living shield.”[or: Zygerria, in the 'these battle scars' verse.]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is at almost 36k words already and we're not quite done with it, so we decided to break it into chapters. this chapter is pretty clean from most of the violence and slave stuff. buckle up, because this is going to be quite the ride!
> 
> title is once again taken from the song "battle scars".

Ahsoka would be lying to herself if she said she’s not nervous for this--her first mission since the disaster that was Umbara--but, in a way, she’s almost _excited_ too. No, not excited, that’s the wrong word; she doesn’t think she’ll ever again be able to be excited for a battle, for more of her men dying.

But at least it’s better than slinking around the _Resolute’s_ corridors, avoiding the men she’d once called _family,_ afraid to meet their eyes and see the blame therein. At least out in the field she has a _purpose._ (Out in the field, she’ll be the closest she’s been to Rex in the weeks since Krell.)

Part of her thinks she’s not ready. It’s not the medical side of things--yes, her ribs still pain her, but they’re mostly healed and her concussion is all but gone. No, it’s the way she still flinches every time she hears a lightsaber that’s not her own. The way she can hardly stand to be in the same room as half her soldiers. The way she’s terrified to relax her shields even enough to sense other Force-signatures, leaving her jumpy and always checking behind her back.

The way she only feels _safe_ in a space where she’s surrounded by all four walls, close enough to touch.

Anakin had asked her if she felt sure about this, before leaving. “You could stay here, Snips,” he’d said, concerned. “No one would fault you.” He’d tried to nudge her mind through the training bond, and she’d let him, but gently pulled back before he could see just how _scared_ she still is.

“I’m fine,” she’d said. “Promise, Master. This is an _easy_ mission, it’ll be perfect to get me used to being in the field again.” And hopefully she won’t have any panic attacks.

“Ahsoka,” he’d said quietly, softly, “why don’t you trust me anymore?”

Rex had ducked into the room then, his presence like a magnet pulling her attention, but she’d managed to keep herself from looking at him. (She’s not sure she wants to see what he thinks of her.) “I do trust you, Master,” she’d said.

“Just not enough to tell me everything,” he’d murmured, nearly inaudibly, and she hadn’t been able to completely ignore the _hurt_ on his face.

Now she’s sitting on the turret attached to the side of Anakin’s speeder, trying to look over at Obi-Wan without looking at Rex.

It’s not going very well. Especially since he keeps glancing over at her like he’s _worried,_ or something, and--

“Planetside to Snips,” Anakin says, waving his hand in front of her face; she blinks, tries not to jump back.

“Yes, Master?”

He just _looks_ at her. “Were you listening to any of that?”

 _Shavit,_ she needs to think of an excuse. “I was… well, looking for the Togrutans. I can’t feel any Force-signatures,” she explains, and hopes that’s true, since she hasn’t lowered her shields enough to tell.

“Hmm, you’re right,” Obi-Wan says after a moment of concentration. “That’s… odd.”

“That doesn’t fit,” Rex says, and she can tell by his tone that he’s frowning thoughtfully inside his helmet. “Clankers are never shy about using civvies as a living shield.”

He’s right, of course, but there’s no chance to discuss it further, because droids on speeders show up and then they’re in the middle of a firefight. (She hears a couple troopers scream as their speeders blow up underneath them and tries not to flinch.) She pulls out her ‘sabers, cutting through a few of the droids before dropping back down onto the turret’s seat and using the gun to take out a few more. It doesn’t take long until the droids are all destroyed, but then there’s a blockade to deal with--a couple tanks, guarded by maybe forty battle droids. (She shouldn’t be _afraid_ of these tanks, one grenade will blow a tank up easily, but all she can see is her men dying under the heavy fire of Umbaran tank-things and there’s a scream trapped in her throat, and she clings to the grenade like it’s a lifeline.)

Rex blows up the first tank with a shot from a rocket launcher, and it’s her turn; she swallows her horror and Force-jumps onto the tank, opens the hatch and drops the grenade in (don’t freeze, don’t freeze, she can do this), and another Force-jump gets her out of the way and landing on the speeder beside Anakin.

The tank blows.

Ahsoka realizes, distantly, that she’s shaking--she drops back into her seat to cover the motion, tries to breathe (tries not to notice the way Rex is watching her, obvious even with his helmet on), tries to pretend she isn’t already one sudden move away from a panic attack. She stays sitting on the turret attached to the speeder while Anakin and Obi-Wan discuss plans (and she really _should_ be listening, but she can’t seem to focus), torn between being relieved and irrationally annoyed that neither of them _noticed,_ stares at her hands until her breathing is something approximating _normal_ and she can _think_ again.

(Rex is still watching her. She’s not sure what to think about that.)

“Captain,” Obi-Wan says, “take your men and secure the perimeter.”

“Yes, sir,” Rex says, and she thinks she’s the only one who hears his voice _shake,_ just a little tiny bit. (He doesn’t look away from her until he drives off.)

~~~

Rex wishes he could just _focus_ , but he can't help but keep an eye on Ahsoka. It's been a long time since he's talked to her, and he barely even sees her anymore. She looks healthy again, and when she talks to General Skywalker she almost seems normal. It's just the small things: flinches and things she doesn't say and a loss of the ease she used to have fighting.

He heard her talking to General Skywalker and it worries him that she doesn't seem to have talked to anyone about Umbara.

He wishes he dared to ask her how she's doing, but he's afraid of the answer, afraid he'll see accusation in her eyes.

And he's afraid that she might be afraid to talk to him too, and what little closeness they'd found on Umbara will have been shattered. Not that this is much better, he thinks wryly.

Missions are beginning to be more routine again, although he knows now that nothing will really ever be the same. He notices all the deaths now, takes almost as much responsibility for them as when he was a new Captain and he'd lost half a platoon in a skirmish. Now it's less grief and more heaviness, and he finds he feels almost as responsible for Ahsoka as he does for his men. Thankfully, one thing hasn't changed much: Ahsoka is perfectly able to handle herself on the battlefield, like her Master. A routine mission will be good for them both. Maybe this will help things go back to normal for her, for _them_.

At the very least they're working together again and he can see her and see she's doing alright. At Kenobi’s order, he nods to Cody and the two of them drive off to give their men their orders so the Generals and Ahsoka can do what they need to do. That's his job, after all.

~~~

So Anakin used to be a slave. It certainly explains a lot of things, Ahsoka thinks, but she doesn’t have much time to focus on it because she has to _listen_ as Obi-Wan’s conversation with the Zygerrian echoes from Anakin’s wristcomm. And _then,_ as if things aren’t bad enough, the city is full of bombs--one of which explodes too close to them for her comfort. A few of the troopers go down in the blast, and she crouches in front of one in 212th orange as Kix runs up. (It’s not that she doesn’t want Kix to see her, it’s just that… well, she doesn’t want to worry him, and he has other things to focus on besides if her ribs are doing fine. And her ribs _are_ sore, yes, but she’s _fine,_ she doesn’t need to help him with the wounded. Even if this  mission is quickly going from easy and routine to, well--honestly, this is pretty routine for them, but still.)

And then Anakin’s yelling for her, and so she follows him to one of the AT-RTs that aren’t in use, following Artoo’s directions to the first bomb. She tries to disarm it, but Anakin just ignites his lightsaber and cuts the thing in half, which works surprisingly well. At least the thing didn’t explode on them. (She’s not sure Rex would forgive her for getting blown up.)

“Come on!” Anakin shouts, already on his walker again and darting off, and she swears under her breath.

“Don’t bother waiting for me,” she mumbles, leaping back onto the AT-RT and taking off after him. It takes--longer than it should, to disarm the bombs, especially the last two, but true to form they manage to get it done. _(Skywalker and Tano do it again,_ she hears a few of the men say after, and once she would’ve preened at the attention. Now she just feels sick, imagining what would’ve happened had they _not_ done it again.)

~~~

It turns out that the Kiros mission isn’t over for them. They hadn’t been able to find the Togrutan colonists (which Rex could see worried Ahsoka a great deal), and the Jedi Council hears this news with an appropriate amount of concern. Rex is allowed to listen in on the report (that’s been happening more lately, per Skywalker’s request, and Rex is pretty sure it’s an attempt to reestablish trust), and he’s alarmed to hear Master Windu suggesting that the best way to find the colonists is to send them to Zygerria to find them.

“Dooku’s involvement with the slavers is troubling indeed,” General Plo says. “However, Padawan Tano - we understand you are still recovering from the battle on Umbara.” Rex thinks the General looks at him for a moment, although it’s always hard to tell with him. “You may stay here and recover, if you wish.”

Rex hopes she agrees to - he thinks this mission to Zygerria sounds ill-advised, especially for General Skywalker. He’s seen how Skywalker reacts to slavery of any kind and knows that sending him on a mission to deal with slavers is _unwise_. And Ahsoka is still recovering from Umbara - he doesn’t want her anywhere near this mess.

“I have to go, Master Plo,” Ahsoka says, and Rex stifles a curse. “Those are my people, and anyway, I have to get used to being back in the field.”

Plo doesn’t look pleased, but he nods once. “It is your decision, Ahsoka.”

Rex crosses his arms where he stands by the door. This is a bad idea.

“Come up with a plan and we will approve it. If at all possible, we’d like to send you there within two days so we have a better chance of finding all the colonists.”

“Careful, we must be,” Yoda adds, brow furrowed. “Sense, I do, a larger hand at work. A great tool, slavery is, for the rise of the Dark Side.”

General Skywalker shifts his weight from foot to foot, the only hint of his discomfort.

“We’ll figure something out,” Ahsoka says, and she almost sounds normal again. He can hear a smirk in her voice.

“I hope you do,” Master Windu says, deadly serious. “We are all the help those colonists have, and we cannot allow the Zygerrian slave empire to rise again.”

It is a light dismissal - the few times Rex has been in the Council chambers, he’s been amused and bewildered by their rather vague ways of signalling the end of a conversation. But since Skywalker, Kenobi, and Ahsoka are all walking towards him now, he’d guess it’s time to leave.

To his surprise, Ahsoka actually falls into step next to him, although she seems reluctant to meet his eyes. Rex searches for something to say, anything, and after a moment of fumbling, comes up with, “How are your ribs healing, Commander Tano?”

Ahsoka blinks and looks at him in surprise, and he’s reminded how expressive and bright her eyes are. “They’re fine. Kind of sore still, but I can do almost everything I’m used to, now. When Kix lets me.”

Rex laughs, and she does too, and it’s a relief - hell, it’s almost easy. “Good,” he says, sincerely, smiling a little. He almost asks about the other things, the nervousness and the mistrust, but Kenobi and Skywalker are right in front of them, and he doesn’t think she’d appreciate him bringing that up just now. Which means he lapses into silence again and looks down at the floor, disappointed in himself. It shouldn’t be this difficult to talk to her.

~~~

Ahsoka fidgets with the hem of her shirt, darting nervous glances over at Rex out of the corner of her eye. She curses herself, silently--it's _Rex,_ it shouldn't be this hard to talk to him. “Um,” she starts, eloquent as ever. “So it's back to Commander Tano, is it?”

That was _not_ what she'd meant to say.

The bitterness in her voice surprises her, and she swallows, rushes to try and save the first real conversation she's had with him in weeks. “I mean, not that it's surprising, after Umbara…”

She trails off, wincing internally. _Way to go, Ahsoka,_ she thinks to herself, acidic and frustrated. _Real nice conversation skills you've got there._

~~~

“I'm sorry, I just thought-” Rex cringes internally, hunting for a way to explain what he'd thought. He's been worried she'd still be angry at him, and besides, she doesn't seem interested in being as close to him as he wants to be with her. It's a little easier all around if he sticks to formality again. Except now he thinks he might have hurt her. _Congratulations, Rex_ , he tells himself. He's done it again. “I'm sorry, it's just what I'm used to with missions.” It's a really bad lie, but it's better than the truth.

“Oh.” Ahsoka nods although Rex can tell she's still not happy. Kriff.

Kenobi saves him, turning with a faint smile on his face. “Captain Rex, we may need a fourth person on this mission. Would you be willing to tag along if we do?”

Rex nods. “Of course, General.” He's not anxious to go, but if Ahsoka has to, he'd rather be with her than worrying about her here.

He excuses himself from helping to plan the mission; it's a Jedi mission and he may not even be involved, so he thinks it would be wiser to make plans with his battalion for what to do while he's gone. They haven't had to fight without him since Umbara.

General Skywalker tells him the plan the next day. Rex doesn't tell him it's a dangerous plan; he can tell Skywalker already knows.

~~~

When Obi-Wan finally decides they’ll need Rex to come along, it’s only a couple hours before they’re due to leave. The Master hands her a pile of weird-looking armor and says, “Would you take this to Captain Rex, please, Ahsoka? Let him know when we’re due to leave.”

Ahsoka swallows and nods, taking the armor and hurrying towards the barracks. Technically, Rex is allotted his own room, as the Captain, but he’s never used it, instead preferring to stay in the main barracks with the rest of the men. She knows where his bunk is (just in case she needed to find him at a time like this, of course, not for any other reason), and if she’s lucky, he’ll be there. If he’s _not_ there, then, well… she’ll have to comm him.

She finds herself not looking forward to that option.

Fortunately, Rex is sprawled on his bunk with his upper body armor removed, reading something on a datapad. He looks _relaxed,_ more than she thinks she’s ever seen him (except for when he fell asleep next to her on Umbara, but _no,_ she can’t think of that now, can’t think of how _happy_ she was, of how she hasn’t felt happy since), and she almost feels bad that she has to disturb him. For a few moments, she just stands there and _watches,_ drinking in the sight of him, a little smile flickering across her face--he’s so _peaceful,_ and she wants nothing more than to just drop this ridiculous armor and curl up next to him. And for a moment, she almost does, but--

 _Commander Tano,_ he’d called her, and he’d lied when he’d said _it’s just what I’m used to with missions._

What else could he have meant, then, beyond that he doesn’t _want_ that closeness with her? She’s broken the trust between them, ruined any chance of--of _anything._ And that _hurts._

She’s too loud when she speaks. “Master Obi-Wan gave me this for you,” she says, all in a rush, dumping the armor down by his bunk (he doesn’t jump at her voice, just looks over at her, and she’s scared to see what he thinks so she avoids his eyes). “We leave in two hours.”

She pauses. (Her hands are shaking. She twists them into the hem of her shirt to hide that fact, even though Rex’s probably already noticed.) And then, even though it feels like she’s literally ripping her own heart out, she manages, “You can--call me Commander Tano, it’s--fine.”

It’s not fine.

There are tears welling up in her eyes and she turns to flee before she can let them fall.

~~~

Rex hadn't taken long to notice Ahsoka standing near his bunk, but he doesn't say anything to her. For whatever reason, she doesn't seem to want to come up to him - although she's holding a big bundle of what looks like armor, which he suspects is for him. He goes back to going over the specs for potential clone armor upgrades. He'll let her decide when she wants to approach him, if she even does.

It's a moment or so before she speaks suddenly, fast and shaky. “Master Obi-Wan gave me this for you.” She comes over and drops her bundle on the floor by his bunk. It is armor, and from the looks of it, it's _horrible_ armor. “We leave in two hours.” He looks at her, but she won't meet his eyes, and he feels like there’s a gulf between them that he can't see the bottom of. She's twisting her hands in her shirt, looking sheepish, and he frowns. “You can - call me Commander Tano, it's-” and Rex sets his datapad aside and sits up because he doesn't understand what she's saying. “-fine.”

This is _not_ fine.

And then suddenly Ahsoka turns and half-walks, half-runs away from his bunk. He pushes himself upright, heart pounding, because he isn't sure what's happening but he can't just let her leave. “Wait,” he says, taking a step after her. He doesn't understand what's changed - she'd said before that she liked when he called her Ahsoka, and it stings that now she seems to have changed her mind. He’s been afraid she’s angry at him, and this seems like proof - at least until she stops, looking down, and her shoulders shake and he could swear she's _crying_.

“What, Rex?” she asks, sharply, and he knows from her voice that he was right, she _is_ crying.

Something is wrong, and he realizes what she said about him calling her “Commander” must have something to do with it, or else have been caused by it. “Ahsoka…” he says, almost reaching out to her, but hesitating. “Ahsoka, what's wrong?”

~~~

He says her _name,_ and that alone is nearly enough to send her into full-on sobbing. Ahsoka wipes at the tears on her cheeks, trying to _breathe,_ to be calm. This might be her only chance to apologize, and--and she doesn't think she could keep the words in even if she wanted to.

She _misses him._ So so much.

“Krell was right,” she whispers, staring at the floor, hunching her shoulders. “If I was _better,_ I could've saved Hardcase and Waxer and Decker and--” she hiccups, closing her eyes, swallows hard. “I failed you and I'm sorry and you hate me now and they're _scared.”_

She's shaking hard, now, but she knows Rex doesn't want her here, and so she bows her head even more, curling into herself, and murmurs, “I'm sorry, I'll go.”

~~~

Rex isn’t even sure _what_ he feels for a moment: there’s relief and worry and sorrow and _warmth_ and he closes the remaining distance between them before Ahsoka can run away again. Kriff, he’s been so _stupid_ . “ _Wait_ , Soka. You didn’t fail me or my men.” If anyone failed his men, it’s him, but he’s not worrying about that just now. He reaches out, tentatively taking her elbow, giving her a moment to pull away if she wants. When she doesn’t, he steps around in front of her, and he wants to hold her close because she still can’t _look at him_ and she’s sobbing.

“But he was right, if I had been stronger or, or if I’d just- I could have pushed past the pain if I’d just-”

Rex doesn’t have to ask who “he” is (and there’s a familiar twist of anger and nausea that he has to stifle), and he’s finding it hard to speak for some reason so he steps in close and puts his arms around her - carefully, because he’s a little afraid she’s going to run. He can’t tell if it really helps but she does seem to lean into him, so he doesn’t let go. “I don’t recall him being right a lot,” he says quietly. “Or at all.” He can hardly believe that Ahsoka thinks any of that was her fault - that she thinks he could _hate her_ \- and he feels like he should have seen this a long time ago. But he thought _she_ would be angry with _him_.

“Well, he was right about me,” she says into his chest, and Rex forces himself not to be angry because she might feel it, might misunderstand.

“He wasn’t,” he says, firmly, rubbing small circles into her shoulder. “‘Soka, none of that was your fault.”

~~~

Stars, she's missed him.

Ahsoka makes a small, choked sound and melts into him, slipping her arms around his waist and pressing her face into his chest. “I thought--” and she stops, just breathing, just _feeling,_ and slowly she lets her shields down enough to feel the brilliant _warmth_ Rex exudes.

His hand slips from her shoulder to the small of her back, still moving in soothing circles. “I thought,” she tries again, “but--they're scared of me, Rex. And Kix was so _angry--”_

Her voice breaks off and she shifts closer to Rex.

~~~

“It isn’t about you, Ahsoka.” If anyone’s afraid of her, it’s because of Krell, not her. He’s not afraid of her or Anakin, but he still flinches when he hears their sabers. And maybe saying it won’t make her believe it, but he tries. “We’re all trying to deal with it.”

“But I-”

“Most of the time I feel like I should have stopped him sooner,” he admits, almost whispers. “I feel like I shouldn’t have commed you because if you hadn’t come you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. I followed his orders instead of protecting my men, and you.” And he can’t forget it. He always has nightmares, but they’ve gotten worse, and he sometimes doesn’t feel like he can look Fives and Jesse in the eye (he’d almost let them be executed rather than break the command structure and he’s afraid they hate him).

Ahsoka’s arms around his waist tighten, and he closes his eyes, focuses on right _now_ so he can maybe ignore the parade of faces that he sees when he gets too much time to think.

He’s missed her, missed this - that’s one thing he doesn’t regret about Umbara, although he had found he couldn’t think much about that either. Up until now, it had felt too much like _loss_.

~~~

“I can't sleep anymore,” Ahsoka whispers, closing her eyes and taking a shuddering breath. “I close my eyes, and Krell kills you, or Anakin, and I--I don't know which one is _worse!”_

She doesn't tell him about the dreams where Krell gets inside her mind and steals _everything,_ or the ones where she tries and fails to kill him, and all she can see are the disappointed faces of her men, of Anakin even, turning away from her, leaving her on the planet's darkened surface. But the images fill her mind anyway, and she can't swallow another sob.

“A-and I'm a _Jedi,”_ she adds, “not supposed to have emotions, to--still wake up screaming over a stupid mission!”

~~~

 _Kriff the Jedi_ , Rex thinks, but he can’t say that. He puts his hands on her shoulders and pulls back, shaking his head. He almost wants to tell her about the nightmares - but it’s something he and his brothers don’t _talk about_ , although he’s slowly learned that all of them have them. “I’m a _clone_ , Ahsoka - we’re not supposed to either.” The only reason he doesn’t wake up screaming is because he doesn’t sleep, and when he does it’s in fitful spurts, never long enough to dream. “You’re not a _droid_ , Soka.” And he’s not a Jedi, so he says, “You went through a lot, and you’re expecting to just be able to ignore it and move on?”

“I have to,” she says, and he scowls. “Obi-Wan says a Jedi must be able to release their pain and attachments into the Force.”

Rex doesn’t even know what that _means_ . “All I mean is,” he says, sighing, “You can’t blame yourself for Krell, or for the nightmares, or any of it.” He remembers telling his first Captain that he felt responsible when his brothers died; his Captain had told him that he had to learn to know what was really _his fault_ and what was not, and it hadn’t helped at the time but Rex is learning to understand. “None of that is your fault, and you can’t stop the nightmares by wishing you could ignore them.”

She’s looking up at him, and he knows he’s talking like a soldier, and really he shouldn’t give her this advice because she’s a Jedi and they do everything differently, probably for a reason. But it’s what he knows. He sighs and looks down, smiling wryly. “I’m sorry, Ahsoka.” He takes his hands off her shoulders, rubs the back of his neck with one hand. “I’m sorry you thought I hated you, because I don’t.” _I couldn’t._ “I was afraid you blamed me.” And he’d been selfish, really, because here she was hurting and he’d been worried about his own fears. He meets her eyes and makes himself smile, even though he’s still a little afraid of what he’ll see there.

~~~

“Blame you?” Ahsoka stares up at him, eyes going wide in shock. “Rex, how could I blame you? You did everything you could.”

He shakes his head. “I don't mean--if I hadn't commed you, you wouldn't have been hurt.”

She rolls her eyes. “Rex, how many more men would've been killed if I hadn't been there?” She shakes her head, a ghost of a smile crossing her face. “I don't regret it, really. I mean--it wasn't _all_ bad, right?” And she really _shouldn't_ do this, it goes against everything she's ever been taught, but--

She lifts one hand, very carefully touching his cheek, just in case he wants to pull away. Her hand is shaking, but not from fear--it's some kind of nervous anticipation that has her stomach doing flips.

~~~

Rex is frozen for a moment. He automatically leans his head into her hand, although his thoughts are spinning. There's sparkling warmth where her palm rests against his jaw and he's not sure what it _means_ because she's a Jedi and they don't do… this, but she's looking at him like she's nervous and her eyes are so _soft_.

And Rex earned his place as Captain for a reason, is allowed to wear the jaig eyes for a reason, so he slips one arm around her waist again, pulls her close. She looks _surprised_ but it's not a bad kind of surprised, and Rex dares to lift one hand to her face and trace the white markings along her cheekbones. Her eyes flutter closed for a moment and his heart is _pounding_ because maybe he's dreamed of this, and she doesn't hate him and she's _right here_ and it's exactly what he's been hoping for since… he's not sure when.

And somebody clears their throat _very_ loudly and Rex automatically yanks his hands back, steps back, silently swearing in every language he knows. He turns, trying for some semblance of composure, and it's kriffing _Fives_. “What?” he snaps.

~~~

Ahsoka doesn't swear when Fives shows up (finally alerts them to his presence?), but it's a near thing, and if she was less embarrassed maybe she _would._ Instead, she jerks her hand from Rex’s face like she's been burned, flushing a bright sienna, and reaches desperately for something--anything--to say.

“Um, so, we're taking the Zygerrian ship,” stumbles out of her mouth, and Rex briefly looks confused before catching on, “and you don't have to be dressed until later, so.” The words run out, and she has to fight the impulse to just--kiss him anyway, kriff Fives.

She doesn't.

“Anyway, uh, I should get going,” and she deliberately does not look at Fives. (She wonders if his timing was that atrocious on purpose.) More quietly, for only Rex to hear, she adds, _“Thank you.”_

And she means it.

Because maybe Umbara really wasn't her fault.

With the hand Fives can't see, she catches one of Rex’s hands and squeezes it, lightly, smiling when he squeezes back, and then she turns and leaves.

~~~

Rex wishes Ahsoka wouldn't go for a number of reasons, all of them selfish. Including so that Fives can't do what he's doing right now: grinning and shrugging like he has no idea why Rex is _furious_.

“Sorry, Captain, did I interrupt something?”

“No, actually, you didn't,” Rex growls, striding back to his bunk to look at his new armor so he doesn't have to look at Fives. He knows he's gone red and also that he was technically breaking all the rules trying to… trying to kiss Commander Tano.

“I just wanted to know if you know where Tup is?”

“You-!” Rex stops himself, grits his teeth, and picks up the helmet that lays on top of the rest of the armor. It's a _horrible_ helmet, heavy and tall and… and he can physically _feel_ Fives smirking. “I don't know where he is Fives, I've been busy getting ready for the mission.”

“Getting ready,” Fives says flatly. “Really.”

“Kriff you,” Rex grumbles, setting the helmet down with a thud.

“I'm not judging, Captain.”

“Unless you have something actually important to say, Fives, I strongly suggest you go find someone else to bother.”

“Well, actually-” and the change in Fives’ tone has Rex looking up at him, listening, “- I'm worried about this mission, sir.”

“That makes two of us, but it'll be fine.” It's odd that Fives is worried.

“You remember what General Skywalker did the time we fought those Hutt slavers,” Fives says, and Rex nods. “They shouldn't have sent him to do this. And Kix is furious that the Commander is being sent before she's totally recovered.”

“I know,” Rex says wearily. “But I'm going to keep an eye on them, Fives.”

“Don't forget to watch yourself, too, Captain.” His brother shakes his head. “We need you back.”

Rex nods, promises. “I will.”

~~~

The stupid kriffing armor looks far better on Rex and Anakin than it does on her, and the helmet pinches her montrals, but at least she's not having to play the slave like Master Obi-Wan.

If Anakin had tried to make her, she would've punched him. Master or not.

But she doesn't get to keep her sabers and she's _uncomfortable_ and she really just wants this _over with,_ partially because she finally has a reason to want to be back on the Resolute that's not about safety and familiar durasteel walls.

Every time she thinks about the moment in the barracks, she’s torn between frustration and, well, _confusion._ It’d seemed so much _simpler,_ then, and she hadn’t had to worry about _rules_ or--anything else (there are so many rules forbidding this… whatever this is she doesn’t even know where to start, and she’s still not entirely convinced that Rex is right, that Umbara wasn’t her fault). But now, here, on a ship flying straight for the largest slave empire in the galaxy (in the company of her Master, who used to be a slave, and a clone trooper, who _is_ a slave in just about everything but name), she fidgets with the _stupid_ armor and tries not to feel like something is about to go very, very wrong.

“I don’t quite understand why _I_ have to be the slave,” Master Obi-Wan says dryly, quite clearly uncomfortable in the rather… _revealing_ attire he’s wearing.

Anakin levels his former Master with a glare. “You’re better at it than I am,” he says, almost sharply, “I’d probably kill all of them on sight. And I _need_ you at my back.”

“I know, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, more quietly, more softly, something changing in his expression, his eyes unfocusing briefly as the two communicate through their training bond.

Ahsoka tries not to wonder what they’re saying. Instead, she distracts herself by looking over at Rex, rather sheepishly. “I’m not sure I’ve even got this on right,” she admits, glancing down at the armor. It feels _odd_ to admit that she’s never worn armor before to a _clone trooper,_ of all people, but… “I’ve--never actually worn armor before,” and she fidgets with her hands, scuffing the toe of her boot against the worn durasteel floor of the ship. To be perfectly honest, the armor is _stifling,_ and she feels almost trapped by it, without the freedom of movement her usual simple, form-fitting leggings, dress, and boots afford her.

She’s not _claustrophobic,_ not by any sense of the word, but this is her first mission since Umbara and Krell and they’re infiltrating a _massive_ slaver empire and she’s not even allowed to have her ‘sabers with her. Her hands keep drifting down to where her lightsabers _should_ be, seeking to ground herself in the familiarity of the hilts beneath her questing fingers, her anchor and her protection all in one. Without them, she feels almost _naked,_ no matter that she’s probably wearing more sheer _layers_ of clothing than she’s ever worn in her life--she feels _vulnerable._

She has to fight to keep from wrapping her arms around her chest.

Something about this mission just feels _wrong._

~~~

Rex gives her armor a quick appraising glance as he says, “Yeah, Kix complains about you Jedi’s lack of armor a lot.” Cody still hasn't stopped grumbling about General Kenobi’s decision to forego pauldrons and greaves.

She's done a good job putting her armor on, for her first time, although there are loose and tangled straps in some places and really she needs to tighten the bracers more so they don't move. He fights his instinct to reach out and fix the mistakes like he would with a shiny; she's a Commander and besides, it feels too intimate. “You haven't tied these straps right,” he says, indicating them on his own armor. “I don't blame you though, this stuff is impractical.” It's made of some kind of metal alloy, so it's too heavy. He's sure it's all very traditional for the Zygerrians but really it's just ancient. “And you want to tighten your bracers and pauldrons,” he adds.

Ahsoka makes a face and he smiles; no one likes _tightening_ their armor when it already feels new and uncomfortable, but one battle with loose armor pieces and they learn it's better to do it right.

He's relieved to learn he and Ahsoka have the safest job: play Zygerrian guards and try to find the Togrutan colonists while Skywalker and Kenobi find out what the Zygerrian queen wants with Count Dooku. Although he doesn't think sending Skywalker that close to a queen of a slave empire is a good idea, General Kenobi will be there, so he can keep an eye on Rex’s General.

Ahsoka peers at his armor for a minute before working on fixing hers - he stops her part way through to show her how to tie the right kind of knot so the straps won't come undone. He tells himself he doesn't feel at all awkward as he does, because this is just making sure she's safe and ready for the mission like he'd do for any of his men.

Granted, he doesn't usually try to kiss his men before missions, so that may be why he's feeling uncomfortable. And now he's not even sure that was a good idea, so it's hard to stay focused on their goal.

Which is to save Ahsoka’s people and hopefully take down the whole karking empire while they're at it.

Ahsoka finishes fixing her armor and smiles up at him, but it's an uncertain smile and she looks too small to be Zygerrian and Rex thinks (not for the first time) that this is a dangerous, dangerous plan. They enter the planet's upper atmosphere and Rex crosses his arms over his chest, forces down his nervousness. “Ahsoka,” he says quietly, hesitating, “Keep yourself safe, alright?” He knows she's going to have trouble sticking to a cover; he thinks this place is going to be full of the worst kinds of people and the cruelest, but he wants her not to risk it, not to get caught. But all he can ask is that she be safe.

~~~

“Don't worry, Rex,” Ahsoka says, smiling faintly up at him, “I've got you watching my back--of course I'll be safe.”

She wants to tell _him_ to watch himself, to stay safe, to not do anything reckless, but Rex will do what needs to be done no matter what (Umbara proved that, in multiple ways), and he's going to protect her no matter what she says, too. (Umbara proved _that,_ also.)

So instead she just turns to the Masters and says, “Be _careful,_ Master, and don't do anything reckless. Please?”

Anakin grins, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. “Now, Snips, when have you ever known me to be reckless?”

That's not very reassuring.

~~~

Rex snorts, torn between being amused and worried. General Skywalker is reckless a _lot_. “All due respect, sir,” he says dryly, “but it's a very regular occurrence and it tends to jeopardize plans.” So much so, in fact, that he, Ahsoka, and Skywalker had to work up a plan Beta that essentially consisted of fighting the Zygerrians and running, should something go wrong. That's why R2-D2 has his and Ahsoka’s and Kenobi’s sabers and why the droid is supposed to stay as close to General Skywalker as he can.

Kenobi doesn't know about plan Beta, as it's unlikely he would approve. He would say they shouldn't abandon plan Alpha unless it is totally, absolutely necessary.

But Rex knows General Skywalker and Ahsoka - it's likely they'll _need_ plan Beta sooner than even Skywalker thinks.

They make planetfall in a dusty shipyard and strike out for the slave markets. The plan is to find a way to attract the queen’s attention there, in a favorable light, hopefully. General Skywalker's cover is actually fairly clever - he's masquerading as an outlaw who'd happened to kill an enemy of the queen’s and now wants to earn her favor. A human in Zygerrian armor and showing interest in Zygerrian culture will, Rex suspects, be intriguing enough to get Skywalker at least an audience.

After that, General Kenobi is to be given to her as a gift of good faith, and with any luck, the ticket into the queen’s good graces.

That's plan Alpha, which is really why they need plan Beta. Because plan Alpha could go very wrong very quickly.

Rex pulls his long blaster out of its holster, not for the first time, and tests the weight of it, the sights, the trigger. Hopefully this thing actually works because this is all he has until the mission is over.

He stays close behind Ahsoka and to her right, trying not to focus on their surroundings. (There's a child crying as she sweeps off cobbled steps, a bruise on her small cheek. Two Twi’lek girls flinch away from the wandering hands of a human customer, and their master strikes them with a glowing shock whip to make them stand still. A human man pulling a cart has innumerable criss-crossing scars across his back and arms and even chest, and as Rex walks by the man’s master raises a whip, sure to add another scar.)

This place is _sick_ , but Rex forces down the bile that rises in his throat because their mission is _important_ , and if it succeeds, might stop all this. It has to.

~~~

Ahsoka can't stop _staring._

She'd never imagined such a place could exist, especially with the Republic’s anti-slavery laws, but--

It's _sick._

When they pass a group of Twi’lek slaves, she feels her stomach twist in revulsion; the slave master snarls at an older male who's fallen to the ground, brandishing his shock whip. Ahsoka goes to _move,_ to grab the man's arm before he can use the whip, but before she can even take a step Rex has her arm.

“No, Soka,” he says in an undertone.

“But, Rex,” she says, looking up at him pleadingly, they're _hurting,_ I can _feel_ it.”

And she _can,_ that's the thing; the slaves’ pain and misery and hopelessness and _fear_ beats down on her. “We have to help them, Rexter,” she whispers.

~~~

It's hard to pull her onward when she's looking at him like she's desperate for him to understand, but he does, although they're really just walking from one scene of cruelty to another. “I know,” he says gruffly. “We're trying, Ahsoka.” That's the whole point of this mission, he wants to say, but he doesn't, just carefully lets go of her arm.

He can tell from Anakin’s stiff posture and almost military stride that he's angry too, but the General keeps his eyes front, no matter how many times they walk past someone they should help.

He doesn't want to ignore these people, it feels _wrong_ , but he has the big picture to think about - finding the colonists and stopping Separatist involvement here.

It's not long before they reach some sort of main square, where it's obvious that most slaves are sold and purchased here. There's a contingent just leaving the square, a Zygerrian in fine, clean clothes and a gold collar leading a handful of tired-looking slaves, two guards bringing up the rear. Skywalker and Kenobi share a glance - this Zygerrian looks like the sort who could be a useful contact, if they can get his attention.

They start toward the group just as a slave stumbles and falls, barely managing to catch himself on his hands. He struggles to get up and Rex frowns, knowing he's not going to be able to, knowing that's not good. The richly-dressed Zygerrian stops and turns, but he doesn't say anything. His guards do instead.

“Get up, slave,” one says, and both unclip whips from their belts. General Skywalker is walking faster, and Rex hurries to keep up, not sure what his General is planning or hoping for.

“Please, sir,” the slave says, and the whips light up gold with electricity, crackling audibly. Rex curls his hands into fists.

~~~

Ahsoka can't bear to stand by this time and just _watch,_ no matter that she's supposed to be one of them. But before she can move, Anakin’s stepping forward, catching the man's arm.

“You don't want to do that,” he says easily, casually, showing no sign of the rage Ahsoka _knows_ is boiling up in him. “That one's already almost dead, and whipping him only kills him faster.”

“Why should I care?” the Zygerrian in charge growls, stepping forward.

Anakin _smiles,_ shark-sharp and dangerous, steps away from the guard to face the man in charge. “It's bad for business,” he says knowingly. “You can't sell a dead slave.”

And the Zygerrian goes still, staring openly for a moment before motioning at his guard to put the whip away, almost _awed._ “You have quite the mind for business,” he says, and his entire demeanor changes, becoming open and friendly. “Who are you, friend? I would thank the man who saved me from making a poor decision.”

~~~

Rex lets out a slow, soft sigh of relief as General Skywalker smiles coolly and nods. “Lars Quell, at your service. It was no trouble. And you are?”

The Zygerrian curls his lip in an unimpressed smirk. “I am Prime Minister Atai Molec, Lars Quell.”

Rex can tell Skywalker is quickly reevaluating his approach. It's good that they've run into someone so powerful so soon, but that means they can't afford to slip up. Molec’s eyes are proud and sharp, his bearing comfortable. He's powerful, and he _knows_ he is.

“Ah, forgive me, Minister. I'm new to your fine planet.”

“I can see that,” Molec says, chuckling wryly. “What brings you here, to Zygerria? Something to sell?” His eyes dart to General Kenobi.

“Actually,” and General Skywalker hesitates for just a second, and Rex knows he's weighing the situation carefully, “I was hoping for an audience with her majesty.”

Molec laughs, although his eyes have sharpened, calculating. “And why would you be allowed to speak to our queen, foreigner? You may be a good businessman, but you will need more than that to recommend you.”

There are surveillance droids humming around them now, and Rex wonders whether they're common around here or just accompanying the Prime Minister. He glances at Ahsoka, and she meets his eyes. They have to be careful.

“I believe the queen would appreciate hearing what I have to say,” General Skywalker says calmly, smiling. “It's about Bruno Denturri.”

Molec narrows his eyes, but one of the surveillance droids beeps a few times before relaying a message. “Minister, you will bring Lars Quell to the palace immediately. By the order of Her Majesty.”

The Prime Minister smiles a little, although his eyes are still sharp. “Well, Lars Quell, it seems you've intrigued the queen. You may come with me.” It's not really a request, but an order. “You may bring your slave, but the guards must stay behind.”

General Skywalker inclines his head respectfully. “Of course, Prime Minister.” He looks back at Rex and Ahsoka, and Rex nods to him. This is good, this is what they were hoping for.

Rex watches General Skywalker fall in next to Molec, and General Kenobi shuffle in amongst the other slaves, keeping his head down.

Rex has a bad feeling about this.

~~~

Ahsoka watches the two Masters walk away, Artoo trailing along behind, and tries not to feel like they're making a huge mistake. Instead, she gestures at Rex, one of the small hand signals used by the GAR in combat, and starts towards the slave pits.

Every time she passes a slave, she has to fight the urge to stop and help, to do _something,_ but they have a mission to accomplish and she feels like the longer they take the worse it will be. The Force feels thick, ominous, weighing heavily on her shoulders, swirling with all the feelings of the slaves gathered here. She thinks there might even be some Force-sensitives here, that would make sense, and she wishes she could go exploring but the mission comes first.

She finally finds the Togrutan governor in one of the pits, and she quickly pulls off her helmet. “Rex, keep watch,” she orders, and then she jumps down into the pit.

The older man looks terrified, although there's an equal mix of confusion and hope when he sees her montrals. “Who are you?” he asks, his voice quavering.

She glances around before lowering her voice to answer. “Padawan Ahsoka Tano,” she murmurs. “We're here to rescue your people. Come on,” and she grabs him and Force-jumps out of the pit.

~~~

Rex steadies Ahsoka as she jumps free of the pit, taking her elbow and nodding. She sets the governor down against a nearby wall and Rex crouches next to them, eyeing the governor worriedly. He looks bad - and it hasn’t been very long. “Did you find out where the others are?” he asks Ahsoka, softly.

“Not yet. We need to get him away from here,” she says, and Rex looks up and sees one of the pit guards sitting on a brezak. If they could get one of those creatures, they’d have a fast exit.

“Could you take care of that guard?” he asks quietly. He can’t quite get high enough to reach the brezak, but Ahsoka could. “I think we should borrow his ride.”

“With pleasure,” she tells him, grinning, and with a single leap she’s up to the creature’s level, with another she’s kicked the guard in the face and thrown him down into the slave pits. Rex stands, helping the governor stand too, as Ahsoka lands the brezak near them and jumps off, taking his place supporting the governor’s weight.

“What are you doing with that slave?” It’s an infuriated shout, and Rex runs ahead of Ahsoka to clamber onto the brezak’s back and pick up its reins. He can see more Zygerrian guards coming and he curses under his breath, helps Ahsoka get the governor seated on their mount’s back.

Then he leans forward and snaps the reins, and the brezak leaps into a gliding run. The best path to freedom seems to be right over the slave pits, so Rex grits his teeth and steers the brezak that way - if he was worried about avoiding the pits, he didn’t have to be, because the animal clears them easily. There’s blaster fire coming from three sides now and Rex tries to urge the brezak faster with a kick to its side.

They’ve almost made it when suddenly Ahsoka shouts and he whips around just as she tumbles off the creature’s back - and the governor, without her support, falls too. Kriff, kriff, _kriff_. He keeps going, it makes the most sense and he talked about this with Ahsoka and Skywalker, but he can’t help but glance back over his shoulder. She and the governor are surrounded and he swears (at length) in Mando’a. He’ll find a way to get her back. He has to.

~~~

The Zygerrians drag her, cuffed and blindfolded, for a ways; she tries to use the Force to feel where she's going, but it's hard. She doesn't know what happened to the governor, or to Rex. She hopes Rex survived.

When the blindfold is finally removed, she's in some room, being cuffed to a ring in the wall. She can't see anything, can only faintly hear people moving around, and that makes her more nervous than she's willing to admit.

And then a shock whip hisses to electrified life behind her and she flinches against her will.

“You will answer our questions, imposter,” a voice says. “Who are you?”

Ahsoka stays silent, and the whip cracks down, biting into her back; she instinctively arches away, smacks into the wall, sending a flash of pain through her still-healing ribs. “I'm not going to tell you anything, slaver scum,” she hisses.

The whip comes again, and again, sending shivers of electricity through every muscle, until she's biting her tongue and lower lip to keep from screaming. Her legs give out, and all her weight hangs from the ring in the wall, her shoulders _throbbing_ from the pain and the awkward angle.

But she _won't tell._

And then a familiar voice comes from the room behind her. “Wait.” It's the Zygerrian from the square. Molec. He steps to her side, reaches out, grabs her jaw in one strong hand, forcing her to look at him (for a moment, she sees Krell, not Molec, and she can't stop panicking). “I've seen that face before, on the HoloNet.” Cold sets into her bones, freezing the very breath in her lungs. “And I never forget the face of a Jedi. _Padawan Ahsoka Tano.”_

She can't breathe.

“And, as everyone knows, where Tano is, Skywalker is also--” and he swears. “Continue the interrogation, I must speak with the queen.”

Ahsoka swears silently. Everything's gone all wrong and they never should've come and-- _please stay away, Rex,_ she wishes she could tell him, _save yourself. Please._

~~~

Once he’s well away from the slave pits, Rex feels safe enough to halt his brezak on top of a building and get his bearings. He’s panting and his heart is beating out of control - it’s because of the chase and the adrenaline, surely. He can see a massive stadium-like building near the palace - he thinks it’s the auction arena, and that seems like the best place for him to go to look for the colonists and Ahsoka.

This isn’t good. He’s lost track of her and the governor, and he can’t protect her if he doesn’t know where she _is_. General Skywalker hasn’t commed him to let him know how his plan is going, so for all he knows both he and Kenobi have been found out or kicked back out on the street. And Ahsoka’s been captured by slavers and he doesn’t want to think about what that means, about what these… creatures will do to her. They’ll want to know why she tried to rescue the governor and was wearing their armor, and if that isn’t bad enough, he worries that whether or not she gives them answers, they’ll try to sell her with the colonists.

What if he can’t find her, or them? What if this all goes wrong and he _loses_ her and Skywalker and Kenobi can’t infiltrate the palace and they never even find the colonists and they can’t save these slaves and- And he forces himself to stop and _breathe_ , deliberately slowing his breaths, trying to calm his heartrate. There’s been no word that the mission has gone wrong for Skywalker and Kenobi, so with luck General Skywalker will be at the slave auction, as they planned. If he’s there, Rex can talk to him about what happened, maybe get his help looking for Ahsoka.

He’s not going to fail them. He will do his part in this mission and look for the colonists and try to get everything back on track.

He refuses to think about what will happen if he can’t find Ahsoka.

~~~

They don’t bind her when she’s led from the room; instead, she’s escorted by multiple armored Zygerrians with long blasters. They’d stripped the armor off her, leaving her in just her dress and leggings--she’d call that a blessing, except for the fact that the whipping hurt far worse _without_ the armor than it would’ve with the extra layers on. (And, no matter how ridiculous the armor looks, or how flimsy it is when compared to the clones’ armor, it _did_ protect her from that blaster shot she’d taken. Which is a blessing; if she was injured, the fight that’s probably about to happen would be way worse.)

Ahsoka can hear the queen’s technologically amplified voice echoing even in the tunnel underneath the arena as she introduces her _special guest, Jedi Padawan Ahsoka Tano,_ and she _really_ hopes Anakin doesn’t react too overtly.

The gate opens, and she’s shoved out into the bright light (she blinks, one arm staying wrapped protectively around her, the other lifting to shield her eyes) of the arena. There’s a stone platform in the center, and she’s pushed towards it. One of the ridiculous long blasters stabs into her ribs, to _encourage_ her forward, she’s sure, and it sends a flare of pain running up her side. She barely manages to bite back a whimper.

Her mouth is still full of the taste of blood, the metallic tang coating the back of her throat, a constant reminder of the whipping she’d just endured. It’s _disgusting_ and she wants to spit it out, but she can’t, because the Zygerrians are forcing her onto the platform and then one slams his blaster into her back and shoulders, dropping her _hard_ onto her knees. She can’t see behind her--doesn’t dare to look--but the crowd is screaming _whip the Jedi!_ and there’s someone approaching from the back--the guards grab her wrists hard enough to leave darkly bruised sections of skin in the shape of fingerprints behind, wrangle her hands above her head, and--

“Looks like I have to save you _again,_ Snips,” a familiar voice says, and she can’t help but smile.

“I _knew_ you’d get here eventually, Skyguy,” she says, and she can’t help but wonder--does this mean Rex is here, too?

She’s not paying attention, misses whatever the queen says, but then Anakin responds with, “You leave me no choice, your highness,” and she hears the whip blaze to life behind her.

Her first response is instant, utter _panic,_ and she flinches, jerking away from the hated whip--but it’s _Anakin,_ her _Master,_ he would never hurt her. Never. _Now!_ he shouts, through their bond, and Ahsoka throws herself into the Zygerrian at her side, knocks him unconscious with a few easy blows (she’s shaky and in pain, but she pushes through it). The three lightsabers Artoo has been keeping safe come flying through the air, and she Force-pulls her own to her hands, ignites them, settles into a defensive stance, her back to Anakin’s, and then she starts searching the crowd.

Where is Rex?

~~~

Rex finds his way to a common standing area balcony in the auction arena, not long before it starts. It horrifies him how _many_ people are here, how they are cheering and chatting and laughing. He looks across the arena and sees a row of viewing boxes, probably for royalty. And he sees General Skywalker and General Kenobi in one of the boxes with a slender Zygerrian in a dress. It's looking good for that part of their plan, anyway.

A Zygerrian steps onto the platform in the middle of the arena, announces the beginning of the auction. Rex crosses his arms and makes himself not react when it's the governor who's led into the arena, flinching at the sunlight. Where's Ahsoka? Rex partly hopes she's here, close by, where he can find her, but this place is terrible - the crowd has a violent energy, and given the chance, they will howl for blood.

They seem prepared to start the bidding when suddenly a rich, cold voice comes over the loudspeakers. Rex looks across the arena and sees there’s another person in the queen's box - and it appears to be the queen who is speaking.

“Before we begin the bidding on this one,” she says, voice echoing, “I would like to introduce you to a very special guest.” Rex leans forward, as the arena doors open, sudden dread making him shiver. The governor is pulled off the platform, to the side. “Jedi Padawan Ahsoka Tano!” Rex’s stomach plummets and he pushes straight to the front of the balcony, grabbing the edge of it so hard his knuckles turn white.

He's found her.

They prod her out into the arena, and she's squinting up at her surroundings, her shoulders and back scored with black burn marks. Someone stabs a blaster into her side and she cringes away - he knows it will have hurt her ribs. He looks across the arena again and he sees General Skywalker meet his eyes and nod once.

It's definitely time for plan Beta.

Ahsoka climbs onto the platform and Rex's stomach tightens as the Zygerrian guards slam their blasters into her back and she falls. _Oh, little gods. Ahsoka._

When he looks back towards the royal box, General Skywalker is gone, and he sees R2-D2 near the railing. He puts his hand on his blaster. The crowd is roaring, an animal sound, and he can't _focus_. “Whip the Jedi! Whip the Jedi!”

It's General Skywalker, stepping up onto the platform, and Rex thinks he's holding a shock whip. This is too much, too cruel.

“Swing that whip.” It’s the queen's voice, icy cold. “Prove to me you are a slaver.”

Rex knows that Skywalker can't, won't whip Ahsoka. Still, he's terrified because this is _sick_ and this isn't an ideal place to start a battle, even with three Jedi fighting. They are outnumbered and unprepared.

“Well, _Lars Quell_ ,” the queen says, and Rex slowly draws his blaster, starts scanning the balcony. “Whip the Jedi, or else die with her.”

The shock whip flares to life and Rex moves as Skywalker does, flinging the nearest Zygerrian off the balcony as General Skywalker catches a Zygerrian with his whip and R2 sends his and Ahsoka’s sabers flying down to them. Rex shoots the guards (and some civilians, if he's honest) around him, running toward the exit so he can get down to the arena and help his Jedi.

There are guards catching on already, the crowd of people pointing at him, shouting that he's a traitor. He sprints around a corner and is confronted by three guards with blasters; he shoots one before someone behind him _tackles_ him and suddenly they're falling. Off the balcony. Rex has just time to brace for impact when he slams into the ground and rolls, his helmet jolted off his head, the metal scratching his cheek. Ahsoka and Skywalker have ignited their sabers, and Rex scrambles to get to his feet and join them, although he's dazed and feels like he's forgotten something.

Then the arena doors open, and he swallows as _dozens_ of Zygerrians with whips swarm into the arena. He tries to run to Ahsoka and Anakin but something burns his wrist and his arm is paralyzed; he realizes it's a shock whip and _kriff_ it hurts. He falls to his knees, both because of the electricity and because he thinks maybe he can yank the whip out of the guard’s hand that way. It doesn’t work, and distantly he sees shock whips, two or three, he's not sure, curling around Ahsoka and he _growls_ , forces himself back upright. Another whip lashes around his leg and it buckles. Both weapons still send waves of pain into his limbs and he collapses, struggling still. The last thing he sees before he blacks out is Anakin, alone on the platform, trying desperately to fend off almost all the Zygerrians.

_Please not them too._

~~~

The blaster shots are easy, routine; even with her back and shoulders still burning from the pain of the shock whip and her ribs aching, she deflects the bolts back at the Zygerrians who’d fired them without thinking. Rex is up on the balcony, and she notices he takes down quite a few Zygerrians before he gets _tackled_ by one, crashing to the arena floor. Ahsoka barely manages to keep from sprinting over to him--he’s awake but dazed, the helmet having rolled off his face, and he’ll be _fine,_ and she won’t be if she doesn’t _focus,_ because there’s _dozens_ of Zygerrians all with shock whips coming out, now.

Anakin is doing well, defending himself easily against the whips, but he’s so _good_ with his ‘saber. And she’s good too, but she’s only a Padawan, and she’s never really fought against whips before--

One catches her wrist and jerks her yellow lightsaber out of her hand. Sparks sear up her arm and she swallows a scream, slashes at the whip with her green ‘saber (and she glances over and sees Rex struggling to stand with a whip around his arm, and _please no_ not him). Another shock whip coils around her leg, and her knee buckles, unable to support her weight--she fights to stay on her feet, blocks a couple more strikes, but the electricity is _overpowering_ and her teeth rattle and she can smell ozone and there are burned rings around her wrist and calf.

When the third whip wraps around her neck, Ahsoka finally _does_ scream, her ‘saber falling from her limp hand as she falls to her knees, spine arching against the voltage. The last thing she sees is Rex already unconscious, Anakin slowly being overwhelmed.

She can only hope Obi-Wan’s faring better.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pay attention to those tags, my friends! We're enjoying sharing this fic with you and writing it - angst and fluff and all. It would be super cool if you'd leave comments and kudos while you're here.
> 
> We apologize for the trauma, we know it's bad. And tbh it's gonna get a fair bit worse before it gets better so buckle up.

Rex wakes up on a floor. There’s a bitter, metallic taste in his mouth and he’s not sure if that’s from the electric whips or blood. The floor is metal, and cold, and he doesn’t want to move because he doesn’t know where he is except he knows that this is  _ not good not good not good _ .

Ahsoka. Anakin. General Kenobi. The arena. The memories are loud and painful and it doesn’t help that his head feels like it’s splitting. He moves a little, finds his hands are cuffed behind his back and there’s something around his neck. It’s cold and heavy and he finds himself suddenly certain that it’s a  _ collar _ .

He dares to open his eyes and he doesn’t see anything but a floor, and it’s quiet, so he dares to struggle into a sitting position.

Ahsoka is seated cross-legged, although her hands are bound behind her too. She’s meditating, he knows, so he’s quiet. The governor lays close to them, unconscious, Rex thinks. Anakin is nowhere to be found and that worries him - but he hopes it just means Anakin escaped.

Ahsoka has a collar too and  _ kriff _ he wants to rip the karking thing off her neck - especially since now he can see it, he knows it’s a shock collar. If the electric burns on her shoulders and back weren’t bad enough, now her wrist and neck look  _ terrible _ and he knows that’s bad, knows they’ll still be burning like the whips are still there.

This may be his only time to take stock of his own wounds so he does as best he can, twisting around to peer at his arm. It’s not going to be good if he can’t keep it clean, and when he glances at his leg (which is worse) he sees that will cause him still more trouble.

“You’re awake.” Rex can tell Ahsoka is trying her best to sound steady. He looks up and meets her eyes and forces a smile, although just now he’s horribly, horribly afraid.

“Yeah. Are you doing alright, sir?” It’s a stupid question, of course she isn’t kriffing alright, but he really just means  _ do you need anything _ .

“Yes, I’m… I’m fine, Rex.” She looks down, and Rex sighs, closing his eyes as a particularly hot wave of pain pulses where the whips burned him.

“‘Soka,” he says, and it feels like they don’t have time, and he doesn’t know where they are but it can’t be anywhere good and he wants to say a hundred things. “Please can we just be honest with each other.” And it’s asking a lot even of himself, but they’ve gone in enough circles and  _ little gods _ he is scared.

She nods, and he pushes himself clumsily to his feet and walks over to her before sitting down again (equally clumsily). She’s shaking, and he leans against her a little, just enough to take some comfort from her closeness.

“Where are we?” he asks softly, hoping she’s heard something he hasn’t.

“I don’t know. It’s a ship, I know that.”

That’s not good. They could be going anywhere. He swears quietly, hopes against hope that this will all still be alright.

He knows one thing though, with deadly certainty: he will not sit back this time, won’t waste time wondering how to act if he can protect his Jedi. He can’t afford to.

~~~

Ahsoka leans into Rex, closes her eyes for a moment, taking comfort from his presence. “I'm scared, Rex,” she whispers faintly. “What if we can't get free? I don't--I can't be a slave.”

“So am I,” Rex admits, surprising her. “But we _ will _ get free, Soka. I promise.”

“But if they separate us--”

The governor wakes, then, confusion evident on his face. “Where--”

“A ship,” Ahsoka says. And turns back to Rex. “What do you think they did to Master Obi-Wan? And Anakin?”

She _ knows _ they can handle themselves, but she can't help but worry. It's a rhetorical question though, because what good does asking do? “I don't know,” Rex tells her, subdued, and she thinks he's taking just as much comfort from her as she is from him. 

She swallows, nods. And then sighs. “My neck--I know it's burned, I can feel it, but--how badly?”

She’s almost afraid to know. 

~~~

Rex looks past the collar as best he can. The burn is pale, skin bubbling and scraped raw where the collar rubs against the wound. “It's not good, ‘Soka. But I think you'll be okay if you're careful.”

The ship shakes suddenly, and the engine sounds grow louder. He thinks they must be landing, and part of him is glad because he wants answers, wants to know where they are. But he also knows that things are not likely to improve from here and these few quiet moments are disappearing fast.

He looks at the governor, trying to project a sense of calm. He hopes he looks confident, certain. “Governor, we'll help your people. I promise.”

The governor nods, and although he doesn't look convinced, he does look hopeful. Rex makes himself stand, straight-backed and determined. The ship jolts and settles, and he sways with it. They've made planetfall somewhere.

Ahsoka stands too, and it's harder for her - he wishes he was more able to help. He looks at her and her eyes are so wide and frightened, although she looks like she's trying to hide it.

He doesn't mean to, but he finds himself saying, “Please take care of yourself, Ahsoka.”

She nods, “I will,” and it's not enough. She doesn't understand.

“‘Soka,” and he turns, faces her directly, “Please. We'll figure out the mission and save your people, but I don't… Take care of the colonists and yourself first. I'll watch out for myself.”

He knows she won't agree, can tell by the look on her face, but she looks down and nods. Maybe that means she'll at least try.

Before he can say anything else though, a door hisses open in the wall of their cell, or whatever it is, and half a dozen Zygerrians march in, brandishing blasters. “Move it, skugs,” they snarl, and Rex puts his head down and obeys. He can tell Ahsoka and the governor are following. For now, it's their best option.

They're marched through the belly of the ship (a freighter, he thinks, massive and ancient) to it's loading bay, and the bay door is lowered. Sunlight streaks blinding (and beautiful) through the opening and Rex squints against the light until one of the guards shoves their blaster into his back.

The governor gasps as they step outside and Rex quickly realizes why: some two dozen Togrutan colonists stand bound in rows in front of a massive stone building. They're on what seems to be a massive platform over a sentient-made pit - so this is a mining planet, then. “My people,” the governor whispers, and Rex glances at Ahsoka. These are her people too. She's staring at them, lips trembling.

~~~

Ahsoka can't seem to stop staring. 

Those are _ her people.  _

Then a large Zygerrian in a chair appears off to the side, catching her attention. “Padawan Tano,” he says with a coldly cruel grin that makes her shiver, “you are the first Jedi I've had the opportunity to entertain here.”

She ignores him, until he presses a button and an entire row of colonists fall through holes in the floor. 

“No,” she breathes, eyes going wide with horror--he _ can't,  _ he can't! (He just killed them because of _ her.  _ She's not saving her people, she's _ killing _ them.)

The Zygerrian looks pleased by her reaction. “Now that I have your attention,  _ Jedi,  _ know that it is not only you who will suffer for your defiance.”

And then he disappears. 

Beside her, Rex looks sick; the governor looks horrified and sidles away from her. She doesn't blame him. 

She's only just arrived, and look how many are already dead? 

“How am I going to do this?” she whispers, pale and cold and so, so small. 

It can't get worse, she thinks--except that it does. “No talking!” one of the guards snarls, and suddenly there's electricity pouring through the collar, over the burn on her neck and sparking through her. It's so unexpected she actually yelps and falls to her knees, barely able to breathe as the burning hot pain spreads through her entire body. There are tears in the corner of her eyes and her heart feels like it's trying to leap out of her chest--

“Get up, skug,” another guard says, slamming their blaster into her, and, somehow, swaying a little, she does. 

~~~

Rex  _ burns _ and it's all he can do not to charge forward and fight, do  _ something _ , even though he's still bound and he  _ knows _ it wouldn't help.  _ I'm sorry, Ahsoka _ , he thinks, but doesn't dare say.

The guards get them moving with a few well-placed kicks and creative curses, and Rex falls into step beside Ahsoka, the most help he feels able to give. She glances at him once and it scares him how she already looks  _ lost _ . His heart raps a dangerous drumbeat in his chest and he realizes he's not sure he can make himself do this, even for a mission, even to save the colonists.

They're marched to a lift car of sorts and taken down into the pit that the colonists were dropped into just moments before. They go down deep below the planet's surface - Rex sees abandoned mining equipment cling to the pit walls as they go, and the air steadily grows hot and heavy.

It seems likely they will be put to hard labor, and that's something of a relief because Rex can do that, he can work and push through it if he must. The guards unlock their restraints, and Rex cautiously traces his fingers over his burnt wrist, evaluating. He can make do. Kix will murder him, if he gets out of this, but it will be fine.

When they arrive at the bottom of the pit, the lift grinding heavily to a stop on the stone floor, the Zygerrians jab a blaster into his back and start unceremoniously stripping him of his armor. He fights his instincts and doesn't resist - now's not the time.

Ahsoka evidently doesn't agree, because suddenly she's right by him, and she shoves her hands out in front of her and the Zygerrians around Rex are thrown away from him like they're nothing. “ _ Don't kriffing touch him _ ,” she snarls, and he's so grateful except… except there's suddenly prickling heat arcing against his neck and he automatically grabs at the collar, gasping, because he has to  _ get it off _ . The second he touches it there's more  _ pain _ and he yanks his hand away just as the electricity fizzles out. He stumbles against the side of the lift, catches himself with his good hand. It's a warning more than anything. He doesn't want to look at Ahsoka and see the horrified expression he knows will be on her face.

The guards come back and grab him again, and he stays still, trying not to flinch. One of them slams a fist into his stomach, garbles out an insult, and Rex heaves for breath, wishing he had his blasters.

He wants the armor back, however bad it was. With just the boots, trousers, and shirt he'd been wearing with the armor, he feels vulnerable, exposed. The guards shove him out of the lift and he dares to glance at Ahsoka. He manages to catch her eye right away and gives her the barest of smiles.  _ I'm alright _ , he wants to say, even though he's not. Kriff, he doesn't want her blaming herself. Her beautiful eyes are so  _ pained _ and he has to look away again because if he doesn't, he doesn't think he'll be able to keep moving.

He's a soldier, and he does what he must.

~~~

This is all _ wrong.  _

Ahsoka wants nothing more than to curl up in a ball, but she can't even stop moving without getting shoved or having blasters jammed into the painfully burned skin on her back. The guards grab Rex and she doesn't even think, just _ acts,  _ flings herself in front of him and Force-pushes the guards away, snarls out,  _ “Don't kriffing touch him.” _

And for a moment that's good, for a moment she's done something right, but then Rex gasps and grabs at his neck and she realizes they're _ shocking him.  _ Because of _ her.  _

She just wanted to _ help _ and now they're _ hurting him _ and she can't--she can't _ do _ anything. 

When they are finally done with him, he catches her eye, smiles faintly, and she can hear his thought plain as day:  _ I'm alright.  _ (Her shields are low and he doesn't know much about shielding and she can't help but listen to him.)

But he's not, and neither is she.

They're both given pickaxes and sent to opposite sides of the cavern to work; Ahsoka can't keep herself from looking back at him, worried--he shouldn't be doing this with his hand like that. But every time she stops swinging the pickaxe, the guards stomp up, yell at her to keep working, and shock one of the Togrutans nearby. If she tries to make a move to stop it, they shock her _ and _ more of her people. 

It's awful. 

She's never felt so _ helpless _ in her life. 

(For the first time, being a Jedi is making everything _ worse.) _

~~~

The pickaxe is light at first, although every strike into stone jolts his burnt arm and neck. Rex is used to pain and hard work, so he pushes through it, and it's almost a relief to have something to  _ do _ .

Except for the fact that everyone else around him is struggling. The Togrutan colonists are peaceful artists, not laborers, and every time one of them stumbles or fails to complete a task, the Zygerrians whip them and shock them until they force themselves to get up and go back to work.

Early in his work, Rex had seen someone shocked until they just  _ couldn't _ move and then they were dragged off somewhere. He'd found himself lowering his pickaxe, stepping towards the guards with no clear plan, and another guard had slammed an electrostaff into his stomach. He'd fallen to his knees, grabbing the haft of the staff automatically, glaring up at the Zygerrian guard. He'd almost smiled.

It seems the guards hadn't expected him to be  _ defiant _ .

It's mind-numbing work, and meant to tire them, as Rex’s aching shoulders can attest after what he thinks is an hour or so of breaking rock. It leaves him too much space to think, although he can at least drown out some of what’s happening around him if he focuses on his task. He won’t play along with this for long, he tells himself, he just needs the right opportunity to do something and he will.

_ Isn’t that what you told yourself last time? _ He can’t quite ignore a mocking, anxious voice that circles through his thoughts, and the longer he works, the louder it seems to get.  _ Keep waiting, keep planning, and never  _ do  _ anything. How many colonists is too many? _ Because the sounds of groaning and crying and the occasional screams are constant, burrowing into his ear like a mind worm, and it’s too much to stop.

He can’t just put up with this, can’t just tell himself it’s the  _ mission _ and it will all be fine. Their plans are all in tatters and he can’t contact General Skywalker and these people need their help.

Somewhere to his right, someone  _ screams _ and he tries to keep his eyes on his work.

_ How many colonists is enough? _

He straightens, turns, sees a guard brandishing his whip over the head of a slender Togrutan woman next to an overturned cart of stone. “Worthless skug,” the guard snarls, and Rex grips his pickaxe and pushes himself to a run.

The guard wasn’t expecting resistance, much less resistance in the form of a pickaxe driven into the back of his leg, and he  _ howls _ , buckling like a clanker under a saber. Rex yanks the tool free and slams the haft of it into the guard’s head as hard as he can, then spins, knowing he’s attracted far too much attention. Part of him welcomes it, craves the challenge of a fight. The Togrutan slave has the presence of mind to scramble to her feet and start working to right the cart - everyone scatters and Rex locks eyes with the first guard who comes running up, smiling fiercely. And he braces himself because he knows what’s coming - his collar flares to life with a loud hissing of energy and for a moment it’s  _ blinding _ hot and he roars, automatically launching himself in the direction of the guard. He’s staggering and his jaw locks closed and he can’t  _ think, _ but it doesn’t matter, because as long as they’re trying to deal with him, they aren’t hurting anybody else.

He’s surprised when he swings the pickaxe and manages to connect with something; the collar shuts off abruptly and it’s such a relief he laughs, locking eyes with the Zygerrian who’d dared to engage him first and punching him in his snarling mouth.

He just manages to turn, instinctively dodging to one side, as another guard tries to stab him with one of their electrostaffs; the weapon connects with Rex’s first opponent instead and Rex jabs the haft of his pickaxe into the newcomer’s chin.

He fully expects another attack, so he immediately straightens, appraising the area, and it takes him a moment to register that one of the guards is just… standing. Holding a shock whip, standing where he is, sneering at Rex. He wears more elaborate armor than the rest of the guards, which means he’s probably an overseer. Rex stops in his tracks - he knows better than to rush into a fight with an opponent who’s clearly confident. “If I could have your attention, slave,” the Zygerrian snarls, and Rex settles into a ready stance, holding his bloody pickaxe slightly up. His stomach drops as two more guards storm over, dragging colonists: the woman from before and an older man. They shove the slaves down to their knees in front of the overseer and Rex suddenly can’t  _ breathe _ . Without so much as  _ looking _ at the Togrutans, the overseer draws back his whip and brings it down (it’s so casual, how easily he does it, that Rex almost doesn’t understand) across the backs of the two slaves and they gasp, curling in on themselves. Rex, without thinking, raises his pickaxe and takes two steps towards them and the overseer brings the whip down again, harder, so it crackles. The Togrutans shriek, voices hoarse, and Rex stops, shaking his head dumbly.  _ Please not this _ . He drops the pickaxe like it’s burning him, raises his hands, steps back. “I’m sorry,” he forces out, and  _ kriff _ it’s disgusting but he does anyway.

The guard whips them again and Rex  _ swears _ . “Do we understand each other, slave?” the overseer snarls, baring pointed teeth, and Rex looks down, nods, bile rising in his throat.

“Yes, sir.”

He understands perfectly, and wishes he didn’t.

The guards evidently decide that he’s still too dangerous to leave in possession of a pickaxe, because they switch him to hauling crushed rock. Never mind that he knows he couldn’t attack them again even if he had it, never mind that he’s gone numb, can’t look anyone in the eye.

He can’t be helpless again, he can’t.

But he is, and he feels the full enormity of this place bearing down on him, the impossibility of escape. For now, this is his  _ life _ , and he doesn’t know if he can take it, although he must.

~~~

At first, swinging the pickaxe is simple, easy--Ahsoka is strong, though slight, and months of war have honed her body into incredible fitness--though monotonous, but as the hours wear on her shoulders start to ache from the repetitive motion, and every time the tip of the pickaxe crashes into the stone it jars her burned back. Her wrist pulses with pain, and her leg throbs, but the worst pain is her neck. 

The electric burns around her neck are raw and hot, the red and blackened skin cracked and blistering, and every time she moves her shock collar--which is fitted perfectly around her neck so that she can’t even slide a finger beneath it--scrapes over the injury, ripping off flakes of loose and dead skin and popping blisters as they form. And every time the collar  _ shocks _ her, the burn gets worse. It’s the worst kind of agony imaginable.

Ahsoka grits her teeth against the pain and keeps working, lets the rhythmic motion draw her into a kind of moving meditation. It--helps, although not enough, but at least she feels calmer and the pain somewhat diminishes.

About two hours or so into the work shift, a commotion on the far side of the pit catches her attention, bringing her out of the serenity of meditation; she glances over her shoulder to see  _ Rex, _ teeth bared in a challenging, almost predatory smile, standing proud and confident with a bloody pickaxe in his hands. She can guess what triggered him to fight--there’s a slave, a young Togrutan woman, hurriedly piling crushed rock into a cart. Ahsoka smiles, because the Zygerrians can’t break Rex, no matter  _ what _ they think--and then she freezes, cold horror seeping into her bones, because the overseer is there now with two Togrutan slaves and he’s casually  _ whipping _ them and she  _ seethes _ because  _ how dare they-- _

“Get back to work, skug!” The harshly barked order is accompanied by the bite of a shock whip cutting deep into her already-ruined back, and she winces, biting down on her lip to stifle a small whimper, and slowly starts swinging the pickaxe again.

She desperately hopes Rex is okay, but she doesn’t dare look again--the lash to her back was a warning, and the Zygerrians will start hurting the others around her if she doesn’t comply.  _ (There’s another way, _ a faint voice whispers in the back of her mind, but she shoves that thought away, firmly. No. It’s an invasion of privacy and she has no idea if he’d even agree to it and things aren’t that bad yet.)

The hours trickle past, slowly, like sand in an hourglass, and the tedious work turns to torture. Her hands have calluses from her lightsaber hilts, but not from anything like this, and soon her palms are covered in tender, sore, blistering patches of skin. Her ribs are beginning to complain, the constant motion being more than they are ready for, making even  _ breathing _ hurt, and her muscles ache with a dull exhaustion. Her legs and arms shake, several muscles threatening to cramp, and she’s finding it harder and harder to settle into meditation.

To top it off, she’s both hungry  _ and _ thirsty, and she doesn’t see any food or water around. There  _ has _ to be something, right? They wouldn’t want their slaves to die of starvation or dehydration before they could get all the physical work out of them.

Right?

Finally, just when Ahsoka thinks she’s about to pass out from sheer  _ exhaustion _ and pain, the overseer cracks his whip and shouts, “Shift’s over, you worthless skugs!” Immediately, the Togrutans around her shamble over to one wall and lean their pickaxes against it; she follows their example, then looks around for Rex. He’s over by the lift already, and as she watches he’s shoved inside with a group of other slaves. The lift goes up (she follows it with her eyes until it disappears from her sight), and a few minutes pass by before it returns and is loaded with another group of slaves. This goes on for another couple rounds before Ahsoka gets her chance.

The guards around her group prod them off the lift when it reaches the top and into a squat grey building maybe fifty meters from the lift. Inside, they’re each given a bowl of some kind of gruel (she doesn’t question it, just gulps it down, even though it’s nowhere near enough to make her feel sated) and a bottle of water, and then funneled into long, narrow rooms with rows of pallets and blankets. The room is dark, but Ahsoka can make out the shadowy forms of Togrutans already sound asleep on many of the pallets.

But Rex is nowhere to be found.

Ahsoka curls up under the thin, scratchy blanket on her chosen pallet, feeling more lost and alone than she can remember ever feeling in her life, and prepares herself for a long, lonely, sleepless night.

~~~

The barracks the slaves sleep in are long and low-ceilinged and claustrophobic - there’s not a single window and just the one door. One hallway accesses dozens of rooms, one of which Rex is herded into with thirty or so Togrutans. It's not a big enough space for that many people, even with the thin pallets almost touching each other on one half of the room. The slaves are handed food and water as they enter - Rex is given water but no food. He suspects he's been branded “dangerous” and they want to wear him down.

They needn't go to all the effort, because he's already exhausted from the work and the realization that he can't  _ do anything _ here. He avoids looking at the guards, not wanting to risk seeming hostile.

He sits down on a pallet near one of the walls, drinks small sips of his water. He scans the room for Ahsoka, but although sometimes he thinks he sees her, he's always disappointed. Any hope he'd had of checking on her, making sure she's alright, seems lost. It's clear that talking is still strongly discouraged in the barracks, although he does see some people murmuring quietly to each other without consequences.

Not that it matters, as no one here seems to care about his presence, or if they do, they avoid him. He finishes his water and sets the bottle aside, scooting down to lay curled up on the pallet. At least he's slept in worse conditions - having a blanket at all is a luxury right now, really.

He doesn't think he'll be able to sleep, not here,but he closes his eyes and determines to try.

Tomorrow will be more of the same.

~~~

Ahsoka slips in and out of a fitful doze all night long, never truly falling asleep. There’s no one here to watch her back, even though she’s taken the pallet in one of the corners, where she can put her back to a wall, and so when the guards come in to wake them up (it must be morning, though she has no way of knowing), she doesn’t feel even the slightest bit rested. There’s something about starting awake at every little sound that doesn’t exactly lend itself to getting a good night’s sleep, after all.

They’re shown to a ‘fresher, given a water bottle that she suspects is all they’ll get for the entire day, and led in groups to the lift again. She catalogues her injuries as best as she can on the trip down: her burns are bad, she thinks, probably getting infected, and her muscles are sore and complaining every slight movement--but at least she can walk.

Swinging the pickaxe is probably going to be a whole different story, but she’ll deal with that when it comes.

She doesn’t see Rex in her group, and even though she knows he’s probably doing as well as he can in this environment, she’s still worried--what if they killed him during the night? What if he’s been injured and he can’t walk and--

Sharp, burning pain sparking across her skin, originating from her neck, snaps her back to reality, and she quickly grabs the handle of a pickaxe and follows a few slaves over to a section of rock. The pickaxe seems _heavier_ today, and just lifting it sends stabs of pain through her hands. When she swings it into the stone, her teeth clack together and her whole body jolts, waves of hot, pulsing pain cresting over her back and shoulders and legs.

But she keeps swinging it anyway.

Not long after the shift starts, the slave next to Ahsoka falls, knees giving out, and she immediately stops working and offers him a hand--he’s Togrutan, barely more than a boy, his montrals shorter and less pointed than hers are, even. He takes her hand, grateful for the aid--until his collar turns on and he convulses with the current, dropping back to the ground. Ahsoka lets go of him, sickened--knowing it’s _her fault_ he’s in pain, because she just wanted to _help,_ and she’s not supposed to--and waits for the collar to let up.

But it doesn’t.

“Stop!” she shouts, turning wide eyes to the guard in utter horror. “You’ll kill him!”

The guard doesn’t even _react,_ and in moments the boy is dead. His body isn’t even dragged away, just left in a crumpled heap on the ground; the other slaves step around it or over it like they’re used to this, and maybe they are.

“Now it’s your turn, little Jedi,” the guard grows, brandishing a shock whip, and Ahsoka shivers at the cruel smile on his face. “I hear the headtails on you skugs are extra-sensitive. Shall we put that to the test?”

She barely even has time to realize what he means before the shock whip coils around her right headtail, and she _screams._

White-hot agony burns through her, so intense her vision greys out and she can’t even _breathe;_ she falls to her knees, hands scrabbling in vain for some kind of purchase on the rocky ground beneath her, and arcs her spine and screams until her voice gives out.

When awareness finally returns, she’s panting in short, shallow gasps, curled forward over her knees, her hands clenched into fists (and she can feel her fingernails have torn open gashes in the skin of her palms). Her vision swims, the world tilting, and sweat drips into her eyes--it stings, but that’s the least of her worries at the moment.

Her entire body is trembling, her heart pounding an erratic galloping rhythm in her chest, and her throat feels like she’s just swallows half a ton of gravel. Even the Force feels _remote,_ almost--it takes her far too long to realize the guard is still standing in front of her. “That was interesting,” he says, catching her attention, and she glares hatefully up at him (all the resistance she can muster, at the moment). “Let’s try it again.”

“No, please,” she begs, the words spilling out of her mouth before she can think about it, “please don’t--”

“Please don’t, _Master,”_ the guard corrects, and he’s _smiling_ and she’s going to be _sick._

“I’ll _never_ call you _master,”_ Ahsoka spits out, _furious--_ how _dare_ he try and take that title? “You don’t _deserve_ that honor.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” And then the guard brandishes his whip again, and she knows what’s coming and instinctively shrinks back. She barely has time to brace herself before that awful _pain_ is back, for even longer this time, and she’s writhing on the floor choking out silent screams and rough, raw whimpers by the time he’s done. “Now, what do you say?”

She _won’t,_ she won’t, she won’t--but the whip threatens and she’s shaking and it _hurts_ and she’s not sure she can survive a third time and--and--

Ahsoka’s crying, sick with pain and horror and fear, but she whispers, “Please don’t, Master.”

“Louder,” the Zygerrian commands.

Her throat is raw, hurts like it’s been scraped by a hundred knives; she’s humiliated, angry, in utter agony, and most of all, _afraid._ She raises her voice. “Please don’t, Master.”

There’s a very long silence, and then the shock whip flickers off. “Good,” he says. “Now get back to work.”

She can barely stand, but somehow she does, grabbing the pickaxe and swinging it into the rock--the jolt sends pain screaming through her abused headtails, and she moans softly, sucks in a sharp, shuddering breath. Part of her seems… _detached,_ almost numb, shock probably, and it won’t last forever, but it enables her to ignore the way her palms are leaving bloody streaks on the pickaxe’s handle, the constant agonizing pain all over her body that threatens to bring her to her knees once again.

Slowly, ever-so-slowly, her blurred thoughts resolve into a single sentence: she can’t do this alone.

So she reaches out, into the Force, finds Rex’s distinctive mind with its rudimentary shields, and latches on _hard,_ though she’s as gentle as she can when she breaks through the shields like they aren’t even there. It’s such an invasion of privacy, and he’ll probably hate her, but she _can’t,_ she can’t do this, and it _hurts,_ and--

 _I’m sorry I can’t it hurts and I don’t know what to do Rex,_ she sends, all in a rush of words and intense emotion, pain and anguish and terror and guilt and grief. _Please…_

~~~

They have Rex hauling carts again today, and he’s fairly sure one of the guards has been assigned to watch him, because a Zygerrian in bronze armor always, always notices the minute Rex gets distracted and reminds him to _focus_ with a quick lash of the whip across someone else’s shoulders. Rex does his best to compartmentalize it, not to react or do anything else to bring punishment on himself or anyone else, but it’s so _hard_ because it’s starting to feel like it’s all his fault, whether he makes a mistake or not. He can’t act or they get punished, but if he doesn’t, it’s just as bad.

The one positive is that he can see Ahsoka more today; his job takes him all around the pit and that means sometimes he can check on her. Not that it does either of them any good because he can’t really help even if something does happen.

He’s busy dumping armfuls of broken stone into his cart, his shoulders protesting, when he hears a shout; he forces himself to ignore it. It’s far away and he can’t help, can’t stop working. However much it _burns_ , feels like cowardice and failure and selfishness.

He hefts an extra large piece of rock, balances it against his shoulder, and drops it into the cart where it crushes dully against the other stone. It’s only half a load.

Somebody _screams_ , and he can’t ignore this: it’s too _horrible_ and he spins around, searching for the source of it even though he knows that’s a mistake. It’s not stopping and his eyes dart all over the dark landscape, looking for- oh _kriff_. Oh stars. He grabs the side of his cart, fights the urge to vomit.

The person screaming is _Ahsoka_. There’s no way he’ll get to her, she’s too far away and she’s on her hands and knees but he tries anyway, breaks into a desperate run.

Something stabs into the back of his leg, electric-hot, and his leg seizes and he falls, catching himself on his arms and going to push himself back up. But there’s a familiar hissing crackle and a lash bites into his back, and _little gods_ he tries so hard to keep moving, to get to her, but his arms just _can’t_ move and he falls. The pain says _don’t move_ , but he’s long past listening. He starts to push himself upright again and this time it’s a staff pressed into his back, shoving him to the ground where he can’t _move_ except to twist like a worm on a hook as waves of agony wrack his shoulders and spine. He’s dimly aware he’s babbling something and he makes himself shut his mouth. _(Please don’t, please stop, you can’t.)_

The electrostaff pulls away and he just _breathes_ for a second before getting up onto his hands and knees, trying not to flinch.

And still she’s screaming, and crying. The back of Rex’s throat burns with tears and bile, because she’s on the _ground_ , curled into a tiny ball, and they won’t leave her alone, won’t stop- he shouldn’t, but he tries to run forward again. This time his collar activates and the Zygerrians grab his arms, yanking him back and holding him still. He could fight free from them in an instant if he wasn’t _choking_.

He stares at her on the floor until she stops screaming, but he can see she’s still crying, shaking, and the Zygerrian guard looms over her, _smiling_.

The guards turn his collar off, and he gets just time to take a full breath before it flares back on, keeping him from trying to yank free.

_Don’t touch her again, please._

Ahsoka’s staring at the guard and Rex feels tears prickling at his eyes. Then Ahsoka bows her head, shaking it slowly, saying something. _Don’t fight them please, just don’t_.

The whip hisses off, and the guard turns away, strolls off without a backward glance. Rex’s collar shuts off too, and he sags, heaving for breath. The guards holding him shove him back and he doesn’t resist. His muscles are weak, spasming, and he knows he’s pushed himself too far but he had to. And it was useless. “Get back to work,” his guard snarls, and Rex can’t take his eyes off Ahsoka, who’s standing shakily and picking up her pickaxe.

This is too much, but he forces himself to turn away and bend to pick up more stones; his back nearly gives out and he has to grit his teeth against the pain and breathe past it.

Then suddenly there’s… something else. He knows enough from his training days on Kamino to recognize it as someone else’s mind pressing against his and he panics, slams up shields while struggling to keep working so the guards don’t punish him again. But his shields, which he knows are at least _adequate_ , suddenly _break_ , and he flinches although it doesn’t hurt.

With that comes a flood of emotion, pain and terror so sharp he hisses, a hand going to his head. But there’s something warm and familiar about the feelings, something he almost recognizes. _I’m sorry I can’t it hurts and I don’t know what to do Rex. Please._

 _Ahsoka?_ He stops trying to hide from the flood of emotion and focuses on it instead, although it _aches_ , meanwhile fumbling for more rocks to pick up, because he knows he isn’t safe to stop working. He sees flashes of memory, and for a moment it’s bewildering because he can’t make sense of it, but hears her begging, calling someone _Master_. The memory feels sick with shame and Rex’s stomach clenches.

 _I can’t, Rex,_ and her voice in his head is such a _relief_ , always familiar but with more emotion than he suspects she’d allow herself to show normally.

 _Ahsoka,_ he thinks, wishes he could hide how horrified and exhausted he feels. He dumps his load of rocks into the cart. _You’re okay_ , he thinks, and it’s just a nonsense phrase, something meant to soothe her. _It’s okay, I’m here_. And he isn’t really, but it’s the best he can do.

~~~

Ahsoka can’t stop shaking. Her hands _hurt,_ more than she’d realized, and she takes a moment to glance down at her palms when she has a chance. The deep gouges are still oozing blood, and dirt is caked on them. If she can’t get them clean, she _knows_ they’ll get infected, and…

She closes her eyes for half a second, just soaking in Rex’s presence. It’s not the same as having him next to her, but it’s close--possibly as close as she’s going to get for a while. _Rex, he--_ and she stops, not knowing how to explain it. So she flashes that little snippet of memory again, this time _controlled,_ showing him the way she’d given in, called him _Master,_ and all he’d had to do was threaten. She tries to edit out the pain, but she’s so tired and she can’t really focus, so she’s pretty sure she’s unsuccessful. She doesn’t wait for a response (knows he can feel her shame, because she can’t focus enough to only project exactly what she wants to), just continues on by saying, _Headtails are--sensitive, and…_ She can’t really _stutter,_ not mentally, but there’s an impression of stuttering, accompanied by more fear. _I can’t._

She knows she’s repeating herself, but it’s all she can do to keep swinging the pickaxe at all. Everything hurts and she’s so _scared_ and she can’t breathe and _Rex--_

Ahsoka knows she’s crying, but she’s too exhausted to do a thing about it.

~~~

Rex doesn’t know what he’s doing, really, but he tries to send a feeling of understanding her way, of calm, although he’s struggling too. There’s anger there that he doesn’t know how to hide, although he does his best.

He falls into a monotonous, steady rhythm with his work and tries to pretend this is normal at all. _‘Soka, can you breathe with me? Can we try that?_ It’s not an ideal time for this, but it’s what works best when his brothers panic.

He thinks he feels _agreement_ so he makes himself aware of his own breathing, hopes she senses it. It helps him, too, because his breaths have been coming fast and shallow; now he works to slow down, breathe deeper, find some semblance of relaxation.

 _Something in him is burning hot and furious because there was so much_ pain _and her memory is hovering at the back of his mind, the shame and the hatred in it._

It’s all he can do to keep working because he wants more than anything to destroy every last one of these slavers, take the colonists and every other slave on this planet and _run_ . Kriff diplomacy and the plan, he wants to _burn it all down_.

He stops those thoughts, pushes them aside for later examination. He’s trying to help Ahsoka calm down, and he suspects his more violent fantasies aren’t helping.

 _I’m sorry, ‘Soka. About all of this_. It’s not enough. He’s so exhausted and everything hurts and he doesn’t know when this is going to end. If it ever will.

~~~

Breathing is--hard.

Ahsoka tries to focus, though, because Rex asked, and slowly she feels her scattered thoughts come together. _It's not your fault,_ she promises him, and she _means_ it.

But she's so _tired._

She knows her emotions are projecting clearly, because she doesn't have the calm concentration or the energy to maintain multiple layers of shields right now. _That's it, Soka,_ Rex tells her, encouragingly, and she realizes the tears have mostly stopped and her breathing is steadier, slower.

Rex is _angry._ She instinctively soothes his rage, like she would with Anakin at his worst, projecting warmth and calm instead. He's hurting too--she curiously prods for the source of the pain, jerking back a little when she sees the memory. He'd tried to protect her? _Rex, you shouldn't have,_ she sends absently, and she wonders faintly if she can do what she's thinking about doing. If she can take on some of his pain, help him feel better.

She doesn't realize she's projecting that until Rex says, _Don't you dare._

She tilts her head to one side, still working. _Why not?_

~~~

He can’t let her _do that_ , she’s hurting much worse than he is (he can sense it, and it’s so unfamiliar, feeling her pain like it’s an echo of his own, separate yet similar), and he’s hurting like this because he wanted to help her and he couldn’t. He won’t make that worse by letting her take any of that pain on herself.

At least she’s calmer now - he can tell she’s breathing easier, not crying so much, although she also seems unfocused now.

There’s a warmth and light easing through his thoughts, and it feels distinctly _her_.

He’s not really sure how much of his thoughts she can hear, but he doesn’t find that he cares. Maybe he should, but he doesn’t have the energy to try to hide anything.

He’s not paying nearly enough attention to his surroundings, although he still has enough work to do that it should be fine, but he flinches when he suddenly hears a shock whip crack next to him, automatically steps back.

It’s a guard whipping another slave and it’s not directed at him, but still, it takes effort to look down and ignore it. The colonist is whimpering and Rex swallows. He’s supposed to _protect_ and he can’t. Whatever he does, someone gets hurt and he can’t _stop it_ , and really he should stop thinking about this and just _work_ but it’s so hard.

 _Rex,_ and he cringes, tries too late to pull his thoughts into some semblance of order. He’s not used to anyone being able to _listen_ to him think and if it were anyone but Ahsoka, he thinks he’d hate it. Right now though, it’s more comforting than anything else. _It isn’t your fault._

 _But it is_ , he thinks, knowing she understands. _It is, Ahsoka, they hurt the colonists_ (her people) _if I don’t listen to them._ He tries to make it simply a statement of fact because she doesn’t need the burden of worrying about him, but he’s sure she still feels his despair.

~~~

Ahsoka sighs, struggling to keep a firm grip on the pickaxe--her hands hurt and her arms are shaking already, only a couple hours into the day. _I know,_ she sends, as reassuring as she can be, trying to block out the pain and terror and sick shame writhing in her gut. _They’re doing it to me, too. It’s awful._

She wants to go _home._

Not the Temple, although that’s where she was raised; no, home is the _Resolute,_ is in space with Anakin and the 501st. She wishes they could just get _out_ of here, take the colonists and run, and if it weren’t for the stupid shock collars she _would._

But it’s impossible to run when your body is being electrocuted.

(She knows Rex picks up on those thoughts, just like she’s picking up on the way he’s comfortable with her being in his mind like he wouldn’t with anyone else. It’s not entirely unexpected, although she’s surprised maintaining the connection is taking almost zero effort. It should be _harder_ than this.)

 _I’m scared, Rex,_ she admits. _I don’t know how we’ll get out of here and I--I just want to go_ **_home._ **

~~~

 _Me too_ , he says, although he finds he still wants to burn this place first. His cart is full of rock, so he sighs and grabs the hafts of the cart, starting the trudge to the area of the pit where, as far as he can tell, they load the broken stone onto an old rail system and send it somewhere else for other projects. Learning about this place might do no good, but he’s trying anyway on the off chance that he’s able to come up with a plan of escape that doesn’t end with the colonists dead.

Before he can get very far, however, one of the overseers steps in front of him, her face a mask of disdain and something like amusement. “Put that down, slave.” Rex does, warily, and straightens. He looks at the overseer’s mouth instead of her eyes; he’s found that eye contact makes them angry. Maybe because he can’t completely hide the anger he feels that pulses hot and dangerous with every beat of his heart.

“You’re being reassigned. Get over to that station and get a pickaxe.” Rex follows the overseer’s pointing finger, realizing she’s directing him to where Ahsoka stands swinging her own pickaxe.

He should be thrilled, and part of him is, but after his display he would think they’d want him as far from a potential weapon as possible, and as far from Ahsoka as possible. Still, he decides to accept it as a good thing and he quickly obeys, ducking his head and hurrying to get to his new station and get back to work. And close to Ahsoka.

 _We can do this_ , he thinks, and as he bends to pick up a pickaxe, he catches her smiling, just the tiniest bit.

 _Sure,_ she answers.

It’s desperately optimistic but he hopes her nearness will make all this easier, even as the first strike of the tool against stone sends lancing pain up his arms and back. And they may not be allowed to talk, but her thoughts still brush familiar and safe against his. It’s such a _relief_.

~~~

Ahsoka is… _surprised,_ to say the least, when Rex is escorted over to her side, carrying a pickaxe over one shoulder, a guard following behind him. She wouldn’t think the Zygerrians would _want_ the two of them together--thoughts she can feel Rex echoing, somewhere in the back of her mind.

So there has to be some purpose, some _benefit_ for putting them together, she just… doesn’t know what it is, and that worries her.

Still, she forgets all that for a moment, because Rex is _here_ and she finds herself relaxing, because he’s here and even though she knows she’s not, she still feels _safer._ It doesn’t matter that he _can’t_ do anything (and neither can she, if he gets hurt); his very presence is soothing in a way she doesn’t quite understand but welcomes nonetheless.

 _I missed you,_ she thinks, and when she glances over at him out of the corner of her eye there’s a little smile on his face.

A few more hours pass, and for the most part she and Rex don’t communicate much, at least not in _words;_ the background hum of emotions and surface thoughts flickers back and forth, a quiet, constant reassurance of the other’s presence. It is, Ahsoka reflects, rather like her training bond with Anakin, only… not quite the same. Deeper, somehow, more _intimate,_ and she shies away from that line of thinking before Rex picks up on it.

Every strike of the pickaxe against the rocks sends pain washing through her, and she’s panting for breath, sweat running down the sides of her face. She pauses to reach up and wipe it off (blood from her cut palm smears across her forehead and down her cheek, although she doesn’t realize it), and in the process brushes against one of the burns on her headtails. A sharp stab of agony shoots through her, and she tries to muffle it as quickly as she can, hoping Rex doesn’t pick up on it.

Of course he does, and she _feels_ his worry. _I’m fine,_ she tells him quickly, re-wrapping her hands around her pickaxe and starting again.

_Ahsoka--_

_Just bumped something, that’s all,_ and he doesn’t totally believe her, but it’s close enough to the truth that he can’t really pry. And then she’s distracted, anyway--a slave stumbles and falls, and it’s sheer _instinct_ for Ahsoka to reach out with one hand, use the Force to catch the Togrutan woman, giving her time to use her pickaxe to balance herself. She’s quiet and careful about it, and the woman is clearly thankful, but…

The guards notice.

Of _course_ they do.

And that’s when she realizes just _why_ Rex is here, because next thing she knows his personal guard is jamming the tip of an electrostaff into Rex’s stomach, sending him to his knees--all the while, the guard holds her gaze.

And she _understands._

“No--” she chokes out, horrified (it’s _her fault_ and she can _feel_ his pain and he’s being punished because of _her),_ “I’m sorry, _please,”_ but they won’t stop and she can’t--she can’t _watch._ “Stop,” she tries, her voice rising, a combination of fear and hysteria and rising panic sending a new surge of adrenaline-induced energy through her veins. “Stop!” And she wants nothing more than to reach for a raw wave of Force and _shove_ them all away, but she still remembers what happened the last time she tried that, and--

 _I’m so sorry, Rex. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,_ and her mind is running in circles because she can’t _do anything._ She takes a step forward and the guard from earlier brings his whip out again, flicking the tip threateningly at her headtails, and she shrinks back, staring wide-eyed.

She’s completely _helpless._

Rex’s face is creased in pain, and all she can pick up from him is a running litany of _make it stop,_ **_please_ ** _make it stop,_ and she wants to _scream_ because _she did this_ and she doesn’t know how to fix things and she can’t _fight_ because--

But she’d rather it be _her_ hurting than him.

So she lunges forward, kicks out at the haft of the spear with all her strength and some of the Force behind the motion, and it snaps in half. She knows a moment of grim pleasure at the action before _everything_ is eclipsed by _agony._

~~~

Rex’s pain subsides so suddenly he almost loses his self-control and _sobs_ , but he bites his tongue and straightens- just in time to catch Ahsoka as she stumbles against him with a whimpering groan. The guards are glaring and he makes the mistake of meeting their eyes, chin lifted. And he shouldn’t, and it’s a mistake, and a new part of him that cringes and panics is _screaming_ long before they yank Ahsoka away from him and throw her on the ground.

“You may be proving to be more trouble than you’re worth, clone,” his guard says, and he looks down, fast. Ahsoka doesn’t move, and it’s probably better that way. “I’m tiring of this,” and the Zygerrian who’s been whipping Ahsoka presses a button on his whip and Ahsoka’s back arches and she howls as her collar flashes blue.

 _Enough is enough_.

“Don’t,” he growls, and he knows it sounds threatening, although really he thinks he’s going to cry.

“On your knees, clone,” his guard says, meeting his eyes, daring him to disobey. And Rex is so _tired_ and he’s had enough, more than enough. Still, it’s not till the other guard cracks his whip dangerously close to Ahsoka’s head that Rex can force himself to bend, sink to his knees on the rough floor. He drops his gaze to Ahsoka and finds that makes it a little easier.

And still her collar sparks blue and he tightens his jaw, knows what the guards are waiting for. “ _Please_ , sir,” he hisses, keeping his eyes _down_ . “I’m sorry. Just please _stop_.”

And it’s enough, because the sound of electricity stops, and it’s just Ahsoka’s shivering gasps and his own heartbeat.

“I’m glad we’ve come to an understanding.” And his guard turns and walks away to lounge against a stack of crates. Watching. He feels sick but he’s just exhausted so he pushes himself upright again, picks up his pickaxe.

Forces himself to leave Ahsoka to pick herself up off the ground.

As he goes back to work, he pulls what shields he can up around his thoughts, ashamed. He’s tired, and it’s all too cruel, and he can’t _do this_.

~~~

Ahsoka’s shaking when she manages to get to her feet, and she uses her pickaxe to brace herself. Her muscles are still convulsing from the electricity, and the burn on her neck is utter _agony,_ but she grits her teeth and tries not to moan or whimper as she struggles to swing the pickaxe.

It’s _hard._

 _I’m sorry, Rex,_ she says quietly, feeling him withdraw and pull shields up--she could easily get through them, if she wanted to (and she’ll have to fix that, after this--if she can get through them, they’re not strong enough), but she lets him distance himself. She understands. It’s _her fault._ He doesn’t respond, and she swallows, swings the pickaxe again. _I never meant to hurt you._

She sniffs, rubs still-bleeding hands over her cheeks, wiping away tears before they can fall. She’d _never_ wanted to hurt Rex, or to get him hurt--she’d only wanted to _help,_ and look what that’s done? It’s not enough that she’s gotten countless colonists killed or injured during her attempts to help people, but now _Rex_ is being punished, and--

She _can’t fight._

Ahsoka shivers, half from the lingering static in her muscles, half from a helpless horror, and she can _feel_ it when she starts to shatter.

~~~

Rex can faintly feel Ahsoka nudging at his shields, and it would be so easy to let her in, except he doesn't want her to _see._ Everything _hurts_ and he's never felt so sick and ashamed. How can he just give up, just dismiss everyone else's pain like this? He told himself after Umbara he wouldn't let his inaction hurt any more of the people he loves, but here he is, swinging a pickaxe like he doesn't hear every slave in this karking place crying.

Including Ahsoka. He can't look at her because if he does he's afraid his resolve will break, afraid he'll keep trying to _fight_ and the simple truth is that he cannot.

He hears Ahsoka’s voice, like a whisper in his ear, and he grits his teeth. _I never meant to hurt you_.

His chest aches and he closes his eyes briefly. He can't even think straight. _Keep your head down and work_ . Survive, make sure they can't hurt Ahsoka anymore. His hands are beginning to blister and his back is in no shape for this but it _does not matter_.

He's disgusted with himself.

It's not until about an hour later when the pit begins to grow darker (hopefully meaning they're almost done for the day) that he can push down the voices enough to let his shields down and reach out (clumsily) for Ahsoka.

Her mind is a _warzone_ and his heart sinks because this at least he should have done earlier. _‘Soka_ , he thinks, hoping she can feel how sorry he is. _Ahsoka, talk to me. Please? I'm sorry, I just…_ He can't quite be honest so he leaves the thought unfinished, tries to hide all the lingering shame and panic.

~~~

Ahsoka is lost in the conflicting voices shouting in her mind, telling her everything she's doing wrong, and so she doesn't even _notice_ when Rex drops his shields. She's practically drowning in guilt and pain and shame, but she still hears him the moment he finally, _finally_ reaches out to her.

 _Talk to me,_ he almost begs, and she's so glad to hear his voice--well, his mental voice--she almost can't form a coherent response.

 _Rex,_ she sends, almost raggedly, _Rex, I'm sorry, I can't fix it and I can't help and they're_ **_hurting_ ** _you!_

~~~

 _I'm fine,_ he soothes, and it's such a lie, but he needs it and she's almost panicking still. _We're fine_.

Except they aren't, because he can feel she's breaking, just like he is.

 _I'm so sorry,_ she says again. _I just want it to be over, Rex, I can't keep doing this._

 _Me neither_ , Rex agrees. And it's not that he really can't, because he will. He'll work and he'll survive and comply when he must. But he doesn't know what that will make him. _None of this is your fault._

He feels her bitter amusement in response, knows it's fair. The whole point of this is that _everything_ is their fault.

 _The day's almost over,_ he thinks gently.

That's what this will be, a day at a time, an hour at a time, looking forward to those precious hours of sleep where they don't have to worry as much about the whips and collars and spears.

He tries to answer some of the thoughts swirling in her head as they work, tries to help her make sense of it all, although he doesn't know what he's doing, how anything he says helps. But she feels, if not better, more focused by the time its announced that the shift is over. The warmth of her presence is reassuring, but it also helps him remember to keep his eyes on the ground as he passes the guards. He's not risking her anymore pain for the sake of his pride.

~~~

Ahsoka drifts onto the lift at the end of the shift, Rex her anchor by her side, the only thing keeping her tied to the ground. She thinks, vaguely, if he weren't here she'd have completely broken by now.

Or maybe not, she supposes. Who knows. Only the Force.

Still, she feels almost _disoriented_ as the lift rises, and she only just barely remembers not to reach for his hand. She can't. Not yet.

Soon.

The Zygerrians herd their group into the barracks like the night before, and there's a bowl of gruel and a bottle of water for each of them. Ahsoka’s hands are shaking so badly she can barely eat, but she manages, somehow. She'd half-expected them to withhold food, but apparently they've decided they know how to handle her and Rex.

Well, they really _do._

She follows Rex over to the corner of the room, joins him in dragging two pallets together to make a little more space, and then she sort of just… lets her legs give out. Rex sits down beside her, albeit much more controlled in his descent, and she can't stop staring at him.

“Rex,” she breathes, and her voice is hoarse but that's _okay._ She slumps into him, even though it _hurts,_ because suddenly the idea of staying away for even one second more is utterly revolting to her. _“Rex.”_

~~~

Ahsoka leans into his side and Rex closes his eyes, soaks in every ounce of comfort he can from it. He half expects someone to punish them still, but the guards no longer seem to care.

He fits an arm carefully around her shoulders, sure he's aggravating some injury and automatically humming _I'm sorry_ silently - where she can hear it, but it won't disrupt this little moment of calm.c

“‘Soka,” he whispers to her, voice catching. He appraises what injuries he can see, the deep, angry burns on her headtails catching his attention. He lifts his free hand, without really thinking about it, and traces some of the unmarked skin, a silent apology. It seems like the right thing to do, although to his alarm she closes her eyes and a tear slips past her lashes, down her cheek. _Ahsoka._ He pulls her closer to him, presses a light kiss against her temple. _I'm sorry._ There's anger deep and cold in his stomach, but also, softer, affection and protectiveness. “I'm here,” he murmurs, needing to ground the words in reality.

She turns, curls into him more, and there's a look on her face he doesn't understand and from what he can see of her thoughts, they're full of _wonder_. It doesn't make sense at all.

~~~

Ahsoka hums quietly, nestles her face into his shoulder. She doesn't quite understand everything she's feeling, or what the ramifications of this might be (the Code screams in her ear, but she shoves it away, buries it deep in her mind because she _doesn't kriffing care),_ but she thinks she knows enough. Especially given the situation.

Rex is just… _holding_ her, like she's something precious, like she's worth more than a thousand kyber crystals, and the almost _delicate_ brush of his fingers across her montrals and headtails sends a shiver through her (but it's decidedly _not_ from fear).

She's never felt anything like this. Like what she feels in herself, or like what she sees in _him,_ his desperate desire to protect her, the way curling around her like this feels _natural,_ the way he kisses her head and doesn't even notice. There's something soft and tender and _intimate_ about the whole thing, and there's a shining warmth in his thoughts (she remembers it vaguely from Umbara) that surrounds her, cocoons her in strength and joy and--

Oh.

And Ahsoka _understands,_ then, even exhausted as she is, and she reaches for the words because some things deserve to be given voice to.

One arm slips around his back, and she uses it to tug herself closer to him. And then, sleepily, but her voice _full_ of all the light and warmth in her, she breathes out, “Love you, Rex.”

~~~

Rex is so wrapped up in the gentle _softness_ of her thoughts for a moment that he doesn't really register her words at first. She's so _close_ and for this moment she's safe, his ‘Soka, and he knows he will do whatever he has to so that it can stay like this as long as possible. He's tired and aching and not sure what's _next_ but this… this is right. Her with him. He's never felt another person this way before (the ebb and flow of her thoughts against his), never felt _about_ another person this way before.

It all feels so new (although he's loved her for longer than he even knows) that her words almost seem like just his imagination, although her voice rings gentle with certainty. He looks down at her and finds her staring up at him, and the look in her eyes leaves him in no doubt that she really said it.

“Ahsoka,” he says, and he wishes he could think of more to say, because there aren't enough words (in Mando’a or Basic) to fit what he's feeling in this moment. A warm tightness in his chest, a pleasant (but anxious) tremor in his nerves, a hum in his veins like he's been drinking.

He hesitates only a moment before sliding his hand along her jaw, tilting her face towards him like he has all the time in the world. (And he does, because this time Fives most decidedly can't stop them.) Her eyes are sparkling and he can feel her anticipation, can feel she wants this too. It feels impossible but it's not.

He leans down and captures her lips with his own, soft and tender and slow. _I love you too,_ he thinks, tries to show her. _My Jedi_. (And he can't help but smirk a little because kriff Fives, but this might be worth it.)

~~~

Ahsoka kisses him back, gentle and calm, and then she pulls back a little and leans her forehead against his, closing her eyes. Her heart is pounding in her chest and the buzz feels like the time the entire 501st had snuck her into the clones’ bar-club- _thing_ on Coruscant and _everyone_ had gotten really kriffing wasted. (She _thinks_ it'd been fun, but she really can't remember much.)

 _Kriff the rules,_ she decides, and she makes sure Rex can hear, _the Code and the protocols. This is right._ The Force _sings,_ though she doesn't tell him that, doesn't know how she'd explain it. But she can feel it in her very bones, a fire in her soul, telling her _yes, this is the right path,_ and she can't-- _won't--_ ignore it. So she kisses him fiercely, proving her point to the universe-- _he is_ **_mine_ ** \--until she's breathless and dazed and probably grinning like a fool.

She can almost feel the gazes of a few of the other slaves on her back, but she doesn't care what they think, and almost as though to prove it she leans forward and kisses him again.

But as much as she'd like to just stay here forever, she's _exhausted_ and tomorrow their hell starts all over again, so she pulls back, curling one hand around his jawline, sweeping her thumb across his cheekbone, and murmurs, “We should sleep.”

~~~

Rex is _breathless_ and it feels good, feels certain, feels _alive._ Still, when Ahsoka tells him they should sleep, his body responds, and suddenly he's reminded how much everything hurts. He tilts his head into her hand, sends a feeling of agreement her way. He lays down first, his arm under his head, and hopes she'll stay close. Why she wouldn't he doesn't really know, but it's still a wonder when she wraps herself in the blanket at the bottom of her pallet and curls up next to him, her back to him. She _fits_ , and he puts his arm around her and pulls her close so she's against his chest. He's going to keep her safe, kriff the slavers and anyone else who dares take her from him.

Injuries throb where they're pressed against the floor and Rex can tell she can't really get comfortable with all the burning pain in her headtails and montrals, but it's almost okay. _Love you_ , he thinks again.

~~~

 _Love you, too,_ Ahsoka thinks, her thoughts thick and slow with exhaustion, and she smiles and curls tighter into him.

The pain in her headtails is almost impossible to ignore, but she finds that it doesn't matter so much when Rex has one arm around her, his fingers tracing soothing circles on her upper arm. She's not exactly _comfortable,_ but Rex is there and she's _safe_ and she sighs, drifting slowly off into the welcoming blackness of sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keep paying attention to those tags, my friends!

Rex sleeps better than he has in a long time, although the nightmares are still present. He actually feels somewhat rested when the Zygerrians come through waking them up, although as he moves to sit up his muscles  _ tighten _ and he stops, grimacing and hissing out a breath. Oh kriff. Between the electrocution and the hard labor everything  _ burns _ . When Ahsoka gets up, he can feel the same kind of pain from her and sends her a commiserating look. As they file towards the door, Rex does his best to stretch, trying to work some of the stiffness and tightness out so he doesn't injure himself too much as he works.

Togrutan colonists flinch away from him, eye him bitterly or sorrowfully, and the  _ heaviness _ of their situation settles on his shoulders again. He wants to tell the colonists not to worry. He and Ahsoka will not cause them any more pain today.

He takes his water bottle and drinks it as slowly as he can, although his mouth is dry and parched. This is all he will get for the next several hours unless he begins to suffer too much from dehydration - he's noticed that's one thing the Zygerrians will do, give their slaves more water. A dehydrated slave can't work.

He waits with Ahsoka for the lift to take their group of colonists, and he keeps a subtle eye on the guards out of instinct.

_ Be safe, _ he thinks to Ahsoka. It's the best he can do.

When their group is finally directed to get on the lift, one of the guards sticks out his spear as Rex passes, tripping him up; he's sore and tired enough that he can't keep his balance and he stumbles, has to catch himself on the side of the lift.

“Watch yourself, slave,” and Rex feels Ahsoka is  _ furious _ . But he thinks it's a reminder of where they are. They were allowed some form of respite last night, but that's over now.

It's crueler this way, he realizes, but he won't regret what little time they had together.

Especially considering what  _ happened _ . Even thinking about it sends strengthening warmth through his chest, deep in his bones where he doesn't think anyone can reach it.

~~~

Ahsoka can barely keep herself from snarling at the guards when they trip Rex up, but it's obvious they're _ expecting  _ that, if the threatening way her guard from yesterday flicks his shock whip is any indication. It’s like the Zygerrian  _ wants _ her to be defiant, to resist, and she thinks maybe he wants another opportunity to  _ educate _ her on the punishment that awaits Rex if she disobeys.

But the memory of the previous day, of Rex on his knees with an electrostaff shoved into his stomach, suffering because of  _ her actions, _ is still fresh in her mind; she clings to the fragile edges of her self-control and keeps her eyes  _ down _ and doesn’t say a word, and she tries not to feel like she’s abandoning every ideal she’s ever lived by.

She and Rex are assigned to work together again today, swinging pickaxes again, and it’s almost a relief even though she knows the closeness is only permitted to make it easier for the Zygerrian guards and overseers to keep them in line. It’s both kind and cruel at the same time.

She’s sore, abused and battered muscles protesting the work, and the various burns and lacerations all over her body are all screaming at differing levels of  _ bloody murder, _ and she thinks that if it wasn’t for Rex’s presence she’d be in danger of not making it out of this kriffing hole in the ground. As it stands, though, every time she looks over at Rex she’s reminded of the night before, of the words both spoken and unspoken, and there’s a bright warmth like a cresting wave, scooping her up and carrying her through the work. She smiles through the pain, because even here, in the closest thing to hell she’s ever seen,  _ nothing _ can take this sheer  _ joy _ away from her.

Rex  _ loves her. _

Ahsoka still can’t quite believe it, even though she can feel the soft, protective warmth of his love, a vein running through nearly every surface thought that passes through his mind. The Jedi Code has always warned her of love, described it as something Dark and deadly, but she’s felt the Dark--she  _ knows _ the Dark more intimately than most Jedi ever learn the Light--and this brightly-burning flame inside her soul feels nothing like the Son’s all-encompassing  _ ice, _ like Krell’s frigid arctic wind. 

How could love be Dark, when her love for Rex is the wellspring of strength she’s drawing from just to  _ survive? _

~~~

For all the pain and the hard work and fear, Ahsoka’s thoughts are warm and affectionate as they work. It helps more than he’d ever have expected, her  _ love _ , the gentle focus of it. He can’t pay enough attention to her to catch specific thoughts, but he can follow the general drift of her thoughts: she’s thinking about him, much as he’s thinking about her. That’s safer than listening to the sounds around them. The first part of the morning goes by almost quickly, his muscles warming to the work, he and Ahsoka sharing light surface thoughts and a feeling of warmth, like sunlight. It’s something of a comfort when things get worse, when the people around them are in pain and the work jars their injuries. The guards have stayed close today, and there is no space for error. Rex can tell they take a great deal of perverse pleasure from threatening both him and Ahsoka, picking at them to work faster, keep their eyes on their jobs,  _ swing the pickaxes differently, _ for kriff’s sake. He’s sure they’re hoping for an excuse to punish them, but he won’t give them one.

Some hours into their work, there’s a commotion in the pit, and four guards come to surround him and Ahsoka, whips blazing with electricity. Rex dares to stop his work, turning to face the guards. They don’t punish him for that; it seems they’ve come to take them somewhere.

“Get moving,” the guards say without explanation, and Rex drops his pickaxe. Beside him, Ahsoka sets hers down too, meets his eyes briefly. He tries to send strength her way, reassurance.

Even though his heart is pounding, blood rushing in his ears, and he knows this can’t be anything good. They’ve been obeying well today, they’ve focused on work, ignored the colonists, followed every kriffing instruction, however tiny - what more could they want? He sees some of the colonists watching them, but most ignore them, don’t even look up as they go by. They are the ones that look beaten, hollow, like sleepwalkers.

Is that what he and Ahsoka look like? He’s not sure, but doesn't think so - he feels like he has a precious secret, a weapon no one else knows about, something safe and  _ only his _ . He shouldn’t feel so  _ invincible _ because really he’s more vulnerable than ever.

They’re marched to the center of the pit, which is where the guards seem to spend most of their time when they aren’t forcing their workers into submission. From this part of the pit, he can see most of the cavern, and he's sure most of the slaves can see them. The Zygerrian from their first day here, Agruss, the one who’d  _ welcomed  _ them and killed colonists just to prove a point, leans forward on his chair where he sits in the middle of a small squad of guards. These guards hold blasters instead of whips, and their armor is cleaner than that of the Zygerrians who work down here. Personal bodyguards, then.

He can feel Ahsoka’s  _ hatred _ of the Zygerrian, and he understands why. This  _ creature _ seems to run this whole place, and he smiles slowly as Rex and Ahsoka’s guards push them to stand in front of him.

“Well, well, well. How are you liking my facility, little Jedi?” the slavemaster says, his eyes gleaming like they’re sharing a private joke.  _ Don’t react _ , Rex thinks, unnecessarily.

He senses Ahsoka doesn’t know what’s expected of her, and Rex doesn’t know either, but the safest option is probably to stay silent.

She does, stares at the ground, and Rex hopes he’s the only one who can see that she’s trembling.

“When I ask you a question, I want an answer,” Agruss says, a hint of a purr in his voice. He sounds like a teacher instructing a very stubborn pupil, a little disappointed in her failure to understand. “Now let me ask again: how are you liking your stay?”

It’s cruel and unnecessary and Rex steadies his breathing, tries to pretend the hatred freezing in his chest belongs to someone else, like it’s just something he can observe.

Ahsoka’s voice shakes when she speaks and Rex feels her fear that she’s saying the wrong thing, will get them both in trouble - and her hatred of Agruss for doing this to them. “It’s nice, sir.” There is no right answer to the question and Rex feels a hateful, bitter laugh suddenly rising in his throat. He forces it down, grits his teeth.

“Is it!” Agruss laughs, truly amused, his smile baring canine teeth. “I’m glad, little Jedi. Although I hear you have been quite a difficult guest.” He lounges back in his chair, glances at Rex, and Rex quickly looks down. “I did not expect this clone to be just as strong-willed. Tell me, clone, are all of your kind this obstinate?”

“Most, sir,” Rex says.  _ Some more _ . He thinks Fives wouldn’t bend as easily as he has.

“How interesting. Perhaps we will have to look at this further.” The slavemaster taps his claws against his chair, then his demeanor turns cold, apathetic. “I admit, I did not think this system of leverage was practical,” he says, and Rex realizes he’s speaking to his guards now. “Certainly it works, but it requires something of a short leash. But the queen informs me she finds a great deal of success with her Jedi using similar tactics.”

_ Her Jedi _ . Does that mean General Kenobi? General Skywalker? Both? Rex swallows. He had hoped that after the disaster in the auction arena, the Generals’ absence from the slave pit meant they were safe, had escaped and could help them.

Now it sounds like they might truly be on their own.

_ A great deal of success with her Jedi _ . This mission was a mistake. The Council never should have sent General Skywalker anywhere near these slavers.

“Well then, Jedi,” Agruss sighs, waving a hand. “Get on your knees. And you, clone.” Rex swallows. It's just his pride, just his sense of injustice, that wants him to stay standing. So what if it's humiliating, it's not worth anyone else's pain.

~~~

_ Her Jedi. _

Ahsoka swallows, tries not to let her fear show too much on her face. If Anakin has been forced back into slavery… she can only imagine how he must feel. And it means that they’re  _ on their own. _ They can’t just sit back and wait for help to come to them.

They  _ have _ to take advantage of this opportunity.

_ Ahsoka, no, _ Rex says, his worry clear in his mind.  _ We’re outnumbered and injured, and they beat us even when we were prepared. _

But she’s not listening, because she has an idea, and she’s  _ sick _ of kneeling.

_ Soka, please! _

Ahsoka takes a deep breath, reaches out, sinks deep into the Force, pulling it into her body, giving her strength, using it to temporarily block out her pain. The Zygerrians seem to realize something’s happening, changing, because she sees them  _ shifting, _ but it’s too late--she  _ pushes _ outward, throwing the guards away with a wave of Force. In the same instant she Force-pulls one of the electrostaffs to her hands; she twirls it, finds the balance (smashes the electrified end into a Zygerrian’s head)--

And stabs the end into Agruss’ repulsorlift chair.

The chair short-circuits, the extra electricity burning out the wires, sending shockwaves through Agruss’ body as the electricity tries to ground itself, and Ahsoka  _ smiles. _

~~~

Rex  _ knows _ the minute Ahsoka decides she has to something, and his instincts scream that this is a  _ terrible, terrible _ plan. (Part of him also says he should just stay on his knees, not move, not help.)

_ Soka, please! _ he tries, but there's really no point. Her mind is made up.

And he feels her reaching, feels an answering pull of something powerful and ancient and wild. He finds himself momentarily lost in the feeling of this  _ energy _ that seems to have an intent, thoughts of its own, and for the first time he understands why the Jedi talk so much about the  _ will of the Force _ , if this is it. He readies himself to move, to fight, because if she's going to be reckless he's not letting her fight alone.

Ahsoka’s attack is a ripping  _ wave  _ of energy that seems to just barely pass over him as she leaps to her feet, flings out a hand and catches the electrostaff that suddenly flies towards her. Rex scrambles upright and rushes to one of the fallen Zygerrians to get himself a weapon (and this one is bodyguard with a  _ blaster _ , thank the little gods). He lifts the blaster and shoots the first moving Zygerrian he sees. He's hyperaware of the collar around his neck, fully expects it to activate any second, and he knows they can't fight for long if that happens.

Ahsoka slams her new staff into Agruss’ chair, and Rex finds himself laughing exultantly as the slaver convulses in his seat. He settles himself behind Ahsoka, shoots the guards she Force-pushed away (no sense in giving them a chance to come to their senses), and takes out any others who get close. This could almost work, he finds himself thinking. They could do this.

But they're in the very center of the pit, and the guards are running towards them now from all directions and however fast Rex shoots, there are always more of them, and they're getting too close.

If the other slaves would try to help them, maybe they'd have a chance, but they aren't moving except to edge further away from the violence. The few that look at them with pity still don't help them, and Rex knows they understand that it's  _ hopeless _ .

Suddenly Ahsoka grabs his arm, holds out her hand, and her voice is an echo in his head.  _ The blaster _ . He hands it to her, and she yanks her electrostaff out of Agruss’ chair, hands it to him.

And then she waves her hand and Agruss is yanked off his chair and tumbles onto the ground, hard. Ahsoka grabs him by the ear, yanks his head back, presses the blaster to his temple.

“Stop!” she shouts, her voice carrying almost unnaturally. Rex plants his staff against the ground, panting, and now that he's still his injuries are  _ screaming _ for his attention. “If you come any closer I'll kill him.”

This isn't safe, won't protect them for long, and Rex eyes the Zygerrians for the first signs of hostility. The truth is that the second they kill Agruss, they lose their bargaining chip, and they'll probably be overrun and executed. But for now it's a stalemate, and Rex intends to keep it that way. There has to be some way they can make this work in their favor.

Agruss starts laughing. He sounds pained and choked and hoarse, but he's  _ laughing _ , and Rex tightens his grip around the electrostaff. He'll kill the first Zygerrian that moves, and then after that, he isn't sure. “Come now, Jedi. I know it's against your Code to kill a man in cold blood, unarmed.”

Rex wonders if Ahsoka actually would - her thoughts don't make sense to him right now, and he's not totally sure what she's feeling.

A guard moves to take a step forward and Rex launches his staff, watches it connect, and finds he feels nothing, not even satisfaction.  _ This is pointless _ , the small part of him whispers.  _ They'll punish you both, you most of all. _

“I  _ will _ kill him,” Ahsoka growls, and it  _ sounds _ convincing. Not that it will do them any good. Rex forces down the urge to tell Ahsoka to give up and surrender before this gets any worse. He won't do that to her.

“It seems you require another lesson in obedience,” Agruss says, then he growls as Ahsoka jabs her blaster harder into his head.

Rex is empty-handed but he doesn't want to risk trying to get himself a new weapon. In this moment the air is thick with tension and the guards and Ahsoka are all being forced towards a decision. Rex knows he and Ahsoka will not win this.

Two things happen all in an instant before he quite understands them: one, a guard shoots the blaster Ahsoka’s holding so it explodes into shrapnel; and two, Rex’s collar burns sharp into his neck, turning his world black around the edges with pain. He can't  _ see _ and his muscles cramp tight and won't relax. He can't get a breath, can't think, and he scrabbles at his collar even though that sends stabbing pain up his arms, locks his fingers into paralyzed fists. He doesn't even try to stay standing, just crumples to the ground, stomach heaving. He almost chokes on spit and vomit and he thinks he tastes blood, too.

It’s  _ too much, _ and he’s scrabbling at the ground for purchase, back arching, and he realizes he's screaming and he doesn't even  _ care _ he just wants it to  _ stop please, please I can't please please I want it to be over _ .

It's nothing but relief when unconsciousness comes, a respite from the pain, however slight. He welcomes the dark, sinks into it without fear.  _ He just wants it to stop. _

~~~

Ahsoka  _ snarls _ at Agruss, her hands clenching into fists. There’s shrapnel from the exploded blaster stabbing deep into both her hands, hot blood dripping between her fingers, but she ignores it, lets the pain fuel her anger. “Release him.  _ Now,” _ she commands fiercely, and Agross’ shrapnel-speckled face contorts a little.

“You  _ dare _ attempt your pitiful Jedi tricks on  _ me?” _ he snaps.  _ “On. Your. Knees. _ Or I’ll kill your precious clone. I’m sure you have plenty more where it came from.”

In an instant, all the bravado, the adrenaline-fueled energy, all the  _ anger-- _ it drains out of her faster than she can blink, and it’s all she can do not to cry. “You  _ can’t,” _ she pleads, horrified. “Please, you can’t--”

“Guards!”

Ahsoka stills, every muscle tensing (no, no, no, this  _ can’t _ be happening), ready to leap into a fight--she can’t, she  _ won’t _ let them do this. She  _ won’t. _

But what can she do to stop it?

“On your  _ knees!” _

Rex is unconscious on the ground. It’s a small mercy.

Ahsoka doesn’t think she’ll  _ ever _ forget the sound of his screams.

(She’s never heard him scream before, never heard him give voice to pain like that. It will haunt her forever.)

Crying, sick to her stomach and nearly senseless with pain (both physical and emotional), she bites her tongue so hard she tastes blood to keep herself from screaming and slowly, ever-so-slowly, she drops to her knees. Bows her head, stares at the ground. Every muscle in her body is tight, protesting the subservient position, and she can’t  _ breathe _ from the disgusting shame and horror and self-loathing trapped in her throat. (She’d almost gotten Rex  _ killed. _ How is she supposed to  _ live _ with herself? He’s  _ unconscious _ and he  _ screamed _ and it’s  _ all her fault.) _

(Everything is her fault.)

“Use the Force again, and the guards  _ will _ kill your clone bodyguard,  _ Jedi. _ Are we clear?”

“Yes,” Ahsoka whispers, and then gasps when her collar activates, sending pain scorching through her. A shock whip cracks across her shoulders and back headtail, and she yelps. “Yes, Master. Please stop, please, please…”

They leave her there, hunched over Rex’s prone body, babbling incoherently through her sobs.

~~~

Rex wakes up in pain. His arms strain above his head, his wrists cuffed together against the nape of his neck. He's on his knees, and everything burns. There's blood in his mouth, from biting his tongue, he thinks.

He lifts his head and it strains his neck horribly. He whimpers before he can stop himself, and a furry, clawed hand wraps around his chin and yanks his head up. “Look who's awake.” Rex closes his eyes, swallows.

**_Rex!_ ** Ahsoka’s voice is a shout in his mind and he doesn't mean to but he flinches, retreats into a corner of his mind because he doesn't want to do this anymore, doesn't want to fight, doesn't want them to hurt him anymore.

But it’s just instinct, not reason, and he quickly reaches out to her with all the warmth he can muster (it's not much, he's too exhausted).

_ Rex, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have fought them, he said he was going to kill you. This is my fault. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Rex. _

He doesn't have the energy to comfort her, not as well as he should, so he just tries to project the love that still burns deep in his bones.  _ Soka…  _ he thinks, reaching for her mind because he  _ has _ to, needs her.  _ Soka, it hurts. _ He doesn't mean to think that, but it's all that's running around in his head, pain and exhaustion and despair.

_ Rex. _ Words don't seem to work for either of them, because suddenly Ahsoka presses up closer against his mind, her feelings flooding his senses. He closes his eyes, welcomes her presence.

He feels Ahsoka latch onto his pain and suddenly it lessens, and he realizes she's taking it from him somehow, like she'd wanted to before. He tries, weakly, to protest.  _ You can't do that _ . But it's such a relief, the pain leaving, that he doesn't think he convinces her.

He's so lost in his own head that he's not really aware of his surroundings, and he's okay with that. He doesn't want to be.

_ Rex, I'm sorry, _ she says, and he can tell she's frightened of the way he's thinking.  _ Please, Rex, don't do this _ .

_ I'm  _ **_tired_ ** _ , Ahsoka, _ he thinks, sharp.  _ It hurts and I'm tired and I can't do this anymore. _

_ I'm sorry, I know this is my fault and I should have listened to you. Next time we can- _

_ Next time. _ He doesn't mean to let the bitterness bleed through but they're too close and he's angry and hurting. And he's not really angry at her but the cowardly part of him, the part that just wants to survive, is snarling like a wounded, cornered animal.  _ I can't do a ‘next time,’ Ahsoka. I won't. _

And he's at least able to be ashamed of that, of how selfish it is, of how he's making her panic worse.

He can feel she understands, and he's relieved - he'd been afraid she wouldn't. And kriff he loves her, needs her, is glad he’s not alone, and he tries to show her. It’s an apology, the best he can manage.  _ I’m sorry I don’t know how to keep fighting. _

There’s an answering warmth, tinted with grief and understanding, and Rex sags against his bonds, opens his eyes and forces himself to take stock of his situation, more or less. He’s surrounded by guards, his arms tied to a metal frame - he suspects this is what the small structure is here for. It takes him a moment to find Ahsoka, pounding the wall with the pickaxe again. There’s a new whip burn across her head and shoulders and Rex feels a dull, distant pulse of anger.

He clenches his fists and sets his teeth against the pain and the ache of the position his body’s in. The day is only half done.

_ My Jedi, _ he thinks wearily, heavily.  _ My Soka. I’m sorry. _

He still hopes he will get the chance, when this is over (because it has to end), to fix this. To apologize, to make up for the distance after Umbara, to hold her when no one’s going to hurt either of them.

He clings to this hope, lets himself dream. That’s dangerous, but he  _ must _ or he doesn’t think he’ll be able to go on. He’s drifting a little but it’s better than the pain, so he closes his eyes again, latches onto Ahsoka’s mind and their imagined future and shuts out the world.

~~~

Ahsoka can’t stop panicking.

She’s managed to shield her terror from Rex, not wanting him to realize just how badly he’s scaring her, but that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with--makes it  _ harder, _ in fact. He’s distanced himself from his body, his mind curled up in a corner of hers, dreaming about--something. She doesn’t look, doesn’t let herself look, because whatever it is it’s making him  _ happy _ and she can’t be distracted.

She  _ has _ to keep working.

Her hands  _ scream _ with pain, and the burn across the back of her head and shoulders throbs dully in time to her heart, but she forces herself to keep going. She can’t even take the time to pick out the metal embedded into her palms, because that would mean  _ stopping, _ and she knows the penalty for stopping.

Using the Force isn’t the only thing they can and will punish her for.

She tries to hide all of the darker thoughts from Rex, but she knows she would never have succeeded if he wasn’t so caught up in whatever dreamworld his mind has conjured up--it’s an escape mechanism, she knows, and she’s not about to deny him his escape. She just keeps slowly but steadily leeching away his pain (because he can’t forget it forever, and she wants him to hurt less when he comes back to himself again), resolving to herself to use her rudimentary knowledge of Force healing on him once this shift ends.

If it ends.

She knows, logically, that it  _ has _ to end; the Zygerrians can’t keep them here working  _ forever, _ but it feels like it. The day passes so slowly. She falls into a rhythm, exhaustion and pain dulling her senses and clouding her thoughts, sucking out any brief spark of light and life.

It’s hard to believe she started the day out  _ happy. _

Rex is in  _ so much pain; _ the swirling clouds of his thoughts, before he retreated, were full of darkness, despair, and so much exhaustion she couldn’t stop herself from crying. The tears have dried, now, but only because she doesn’t have the  _ energy _ for them. She’s so  _ tired _ and pulling on Rex’s pain, keeping her darkest thoughts blocked off from him,  _ and _ focusing on her work all at once just drains her, leaves her barely able to function.

But it’s worth it.

She wraps Rex in a cocoon of warmth and love, all the brightness she can find in her, and cradles his mind close, protecting him with everything she has in her.

She  _ won’t _ fail him again. 

Not if it kills her.

…

Ahsoka is in so much of a fog, dazed and weary to the bone, that the whistles and shouts to signal the end of the shift come as a surprise. The other slaves are standing up, straightening, going to put their pickaxes away; she stares almost uncomprehendingly at them, blinks slowly, watching the way wariness turns to pity and concern on several faces.

None of them speak--they’re not allowed to, of course--but a Togrutan woman gently takes Ahsoka’s wrist, unwraps her hand from the pickaxe’s handle, pulls her away from the wall. She follows the older woman in a daze, feeling rather like a lost child, small and cold and scared, leans her pickaxe against the wall. 

She’s forgetting something.

Something won’t let her leave, although the Togrutan woman tries to tug her away; Ahsoka frowns, tries to  _ think _ though everything  _ hurts _ and her head is too fuzzy to make sense of it all.  _ Rex. _ That’s what she’s missing. She has--has to get him. From the guards. Right?

The woman gently pulls her wrist again, and Ahsoka shakes her head. “Wait,” she says, her voice thick and slow in her ears (almost like the blood still sluggishly pulsing out of her hands). “Rex…”

She turns, looks back, swaying on her feet, blinks a few times in an effort to get her eyes to focus. He’s  _ there, _ not far away--the guards are uncuffing him from the frame he’s been attached to, and she  _ really _ hates it because she remembers how much it hurts him. She hates this whole  _ kriffing  _ place. The guards shove him into the flow of slaves and she loses sight of him for a moment, a sharp spike of panic shooting up her spine and into her throat--what if she can’t find him, what if they’re separated again--and then he’s staggering up beside her, hollow and empty-eyed but  _ here. _

“You must come,” the woman says, very very quietly, as though she’s afraid she’ll get electrocuted--but the sound of the lift rising drowns out her voice. “Please, little one.”

Ahsoka gives in, follows tamely along, stumbling every few steps and swaying on her feet, dizzy and hurting and  _ sad, _ and it’s like she blinks and the next thing she knows she’s accepting her bowl of gruel and bottle of water.

She stops for a moment, confused. How did she get here? The woman is still in front of her, and Rex--she whips her head around (too fast, everything spins and she almost falls over), looking for him, finds him behind her. They’re still together. That’s good.

Her hands are so weak she almost drops the food and water, but she can’t use the Force to help because--because--they’ll kill him, they said that. She remembers that now.

That’s important, that she remember that, because she can’t let them kill him.

She thinks the Zygerrian guard is laughing at her, but she doesn’t have the energy to care--she just stumbles over to the corner, slides down the wall, and drops her forehead to her knees, setting her food and water down untouched on the floor beside her.

She’s too exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally, to be hungry or thirsty.

~~~

When they uncuff his hands and let him down, it takes Rex a moment to  _ focus _ , to come back to himself, and when he does it  _ hurts _ . The blood rushes painfully back into his hands and he hisses. Getting to his feet is automatic, clumsy, and he searches the crowd of moving slaves for Ahsoka. He has to get to her (what if they don’t allow him?), so he focuses hard on putting one foot in front of the other, searching for her.

Then the guards shove him towards the lift, and he almost falls, has to put most of his energy into just standing. But he sees Ahsoka, suddenly, craning her neck like she’s looking for someone and, relieved, he finds he’s able to walk stronger until he gets to her, falls in step beside her, barely stops himself from speaking. Another slave is supporting Ahsoka, and he meets the woman’s eyes, trying to communicate gratefulness.

He can’t quite think still, but he knows Ahsoka needs to move, they all do. Now that he’s next to her, he finds it easier to breathe. The shift is over. They have time, they can rest. (He refuses to let his mind shift towards  _ tomorrow _ .)

Their group is one of the first on the lift, and Rex is thankful for the Togrutan woman who stays close to Ahsoka, her eyes gentle and worried. Ahsoka doesn’t seem to be able to focus, so he helps guide her to the door of one of the rooms, where the guard shoves their meal into her hands and suddenly she spins, eyes wild, until she meets his gaze and then she sighs and he feels her relief. The guard laughs, a cold sound, but Ahsoka is shaking so Rex ignores the Zygerrian, gently puts his hand on her back and pushes her away from the guard. The guard gives Rex his food and water, sneers at him. Rex finds he doesn’t care.

He follows her into the room, finding the energy to search her form for any more injuries. There aren’t any new ones, so he nudges at her mind, tries to parse out what he’s missed. She doesn’t quite let him, although he senses her strict control of her thoughts is wavering. She sinks onto the floor, sets her food and water to one side, and folds over her knees, arms wrapping around them. He sits down next to her, the relaxed position a relief for his aching muscles.

The Togrutan woman who’d been helping her comes over, kneels down, gives him a look like she’s trying to figure him out. “She needs to eat.”

He nods. “Thank you,” he says. His voice breaks and he clears his throat, rubs his face. “For helping her.”

She dips her head, seems about to stand and leave, and Rex leans forward. “Wait. I’m sorry. Just… wait. What’s your name?”

The woman flinches, blinks, stares at him like he’s done something  _ important _ . “It’s… it’s Ahsri.”

“Thank you, Ahsri,” and he doesn’t miss how suddenly she’s blinking, looking at the floor. Names. It’s about her name, he realizes.

“Who are you?” she asks, and it’s not just about his name, but that’s what he answers with.

“I’m Rex. She’s Ahsoka.” He nods to his Jedi, who at least appears to be  _ listening _ , even if he can feel she still has barely any energy.

“They will break her too,” Ahsri murmurs. “I don’t want that.”

“I don’t either.”

The woman looks at him, nods. “Make sure she eats.”

“I will.”

Ahsri gets up, goes over to a pallet of her own and lays down, and Rex shifts his focus to Ahsoka. He makes himself put off eating (although he takes a few wonderful, soothing sips of water) so he can get her to at least drink.

“Ahsoka,” he says softly, soothing his hand over her shoulder. “Ahsoka, I need you to try to drink something. Please.” He reaches out for her mind again, tries to get her to focus. “It will help.”

~~~

Ahsoka is vaguely aware of the conversation, although she’s mostly just  _ drifting, _ her thoughts strange and slow and far away. Her body, Rex, the woman (Ahsri, something tells her), they all seem so… remote, distant. All her own pain, the pain she’s still taking from Rex--though her control is fading  _ fast _ \--the dark thoughts and fear that have been smothering her: all of it fades away, until there’s nothing but her and the Force and blissful relief.

Rex’s hand on her shoulder is an anchor, tugging her back to her material body, and she moans softly as  _ everything _ comes rushing back, hunching in on herself. “Let me--float,” she tries to say, but she’s slurring her words together and she’s not sure Rex can understand what she means, anyway. 

She tries to explain, but she’s too tired to try and open her mouth again--and Rex is poking at her mind, and she struggles to hold her shields, hold everything up, but she’s just so  _ tired _ and she can’t  _ think _ and she just wants it all to  _ stop. _ It’s too  _ much. _

“Not--thirsty,” she rasps out, and it’s only half a lie. The Force beckons her, and she tries to slip back into its comforting embrace, but something is holding her back.

No, not something.

Someone.

Rex.

~~~

She’s not really  _ responding _ and it scares Rex enough that he can finally push back the fog of pain and exhaustion that’s been drowning him ever since they'd tried to fight.  _ Ahsoka, come on. Please. _

She’s trying to keep him at a distance, he feels it, and it’s not  _ good, _ not what either of them needs. He can’t push past her shields, and wouldn’t if he could, but he still feels fragments of her pain and fear and… oh kriff,  _ Ahsoka _ . She’s hanging onto some of  _ his _ pain, keeping him from feeling it, but that means she does and although he  _ doesn’t want to  _ he instinctively  _ pulls _ , makes her let the pain go and settle back on him.

It’s all so much  _ worse _ for a moment, and the fog of despair creeps up on him again, because he  _ can’t do this _ \- but it passes, and he makes himself bear it, get used to it.

He thinks that’s helped her a little, at least, and he presses against her thoughts again.  _ Drink something. Just half the bottle at least, Soka. _

~~~

He takes his pain back from her, won’t let her keep it, and she  _ hates _ having to give it back but she’s not strong enough to hold on anymore, too tired to fight. And it does help, because she’s not having to focus so hard now, and there’s a bit less of a fog, but still… half the bottle, Rex asks her, and just the  _ thought _ of moving her hand, lifting her head, is almost too much to bear.

But it’s  _ Rex, _ and she can vaguely feel how worried he is, so she uncurls one hand, hissing a little as the shrapnel shifts and cuts deeper into the meat of her palm and the muscles of her fingers and the skin on the back of her hand, and shakily reaches for where she’d put the bottle. She doesn’t yet have the energy to lift her head.

But instead of the water bottle, she finds Rex’s hand.

_ What…? _

~~~

Rex shouldn’t stop her from drinking now that she’s finally  _ listening  _ to him, but oh kriff, her  _ hand. _ He catches her searching fingers, gently turns her hand so he can look at her palm. It’s full of metal splinters and he remembers the blaster exploding in her hands.

_ Oh, Soka. _ He instinctively starts pulling the shrapnel out of her palm, although it makes her flinch. Some of the shards have pierced deep, and these he pulls free quickly, efficiently, so it doesn’t cause her more pain than it has to. He reaches for his water bottle, pours a little of the liquid into her palm, trying to at least clean the wounds a little. Then he sighs and turns her hand over, goes back to his task. At least the back of her hand isn’t as hurt, so it doesn’t take as long and he uses less water to clean it.

_ Can you drink now? _ He lets go of her hand, slides her water bottle closer to her. He sips some of his own water, washes most of the taste of blood out of his mouth.

~~~

It _ hurts, _ when Rex pulls the shrapnel from her hand; she bites her tongue and swallows back her whimpers, knowing he's using his own precious supply of water to clean the cuts and gashes. 

She fumbles with the bottle, gets the lid off, and then takes a shuddering breath. This is the hardest part. 

It takes almost all of her energy, but Ahsoka slowly lifts her head from her knees, brings the bottle to her lips (her hands shaking so badly the water sloshes out the top, a little), takes a couple careful sips. Her throat is raw and the water both stings and soothes it. She swallows down maybe a quarter of the liquid, and then her arm just… gives out, and she has to carefully set the bottle down before she drops it. 

_ Sorry… _

~~~

Rex takes the apology, sends back a soothing understanding. “Give me your other hand,” he says softly, and she extends it, trembling. This hand is in worse shape than the other, and he spends longer cleaning out the wounds, although he feels her wince with his every move to help.  _ Try again, _ he thinks, and she's still so weary but she picks up the water bottle again, gulps more of it down. It's over half gone when she tires again, and he takes the bottle and sets it to the side. She can finish it later.

He wants to get her to eat something, too, but just now he feels that isn't going to work. So he shifts over so their shoulders brush, just a little, and eats his own food. It helps, although the food is never quite enough.

Little gods, he's so exhausted and he wants nothing more than to sleep, but Ahsoka needs him and he wants to communicate with her, wants to actually have something like a lucid conversation. But he doesn't know if he can tonight; she's not letting him see her thoughts, although he thinks it would help her to stop holding it all so  _ tight _ .

He finishes his food and, yet again, sends a thought her way.  _ Can we try eating something?  _ He doesn't think she'll agree, but Ahsri was right, she needs food.

She doesn't respond, and he focuses more on her mind, tries to send warmth and strength.  _ Just a little, Soka _ .

He doesn't know whether his words trigger it or something else, but suddenly her self-control cracks, her shields faltering, and he's flooded with sorrow and anguish and weariness so heavy it's almost a physical weight. He closes his eyes and does his best to weather it, not dwell on it.

~~~

_ Sorry,  _ Ahsoka sends weakly, trying to get her shields back under control. She's so _ tired _ and she wants nothing more than to just curl up in a corner of his mind the way he had in hers earlier that day, but she _ can't _ make him feel all the dark shame and guilt and self-loathing and fear she's been holding so close to herself. 

Too late, she realizes he's able to see the thoughts running across the surface of her mind, and she can tell by the surge of warmth that he's projecting, trying to comfort her.

But she doesn't _ deserve _ his comfort, his love. 

She almost got him _ killed.  _

Against her will, a single tear slips past her eyelashes, and she makes a small, stifled noise that sounds suspiciously like a choked sob. 

~~~

Rex gives up on the food and drink for now, instead fitting his arms under her knees and around her shoulders and lifting her (more clumsily than he'd like) into his lap, against his chest. And it hurts a little, but it also feels safe, comforting. He holds her tight and tries to soothe the tangled, pained mess that is her thoughts.

_ I love you, _ he thinks. And kriff, this morning that had felt like strength, like something that was just his. Now it's a weapon they've turned against him and he hates it. It's not right. But still, he does love her, won't let himself stop saying it.

He ends up mostly thinking soothing nonsense, telling her he loves her, promising they'll figure it out, telling her he doesn't blame her, anything to try to give her some kind of peace. She's feeling a lot of guilt and a lot of anger, the emotions feeding each other, and he tries to tell her the anger is okay.

He can feel she's scared for him too, on top of it all, but he doesn't know how to address that without giving away how  _ lost _ he still is, how much it hurts. So he just brushes lightly over those thoughts, tries to bring  _ calm _ .

Most of the other slaves, including Ahsri, are already sleeping, but his Jedi is crying, so he rubs her shoulder and rests his chin against her forehead, swallowing.

~~~

Ahsoka cries into his chest until the tears run out, and then she just _ breathes,  _ letting Rex's soothing reassurance and calm wash over her. He's trying to show her that her anger is _ okay,  _ but Master Yoda’s words echo in her mind:  _ fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering. Fear is the path to the Dark Side,  _ and she can't understand.

Maybe it's okay for a soldier, but she's a _ Jedi.  _ She's held to a different standard. 

She realizes, after a moment, just how tired Rex is, and without thinking she Force-pulls a blanket over them (the guards aren't here, she's safe, he's safe, they can't hurt him), nestles into his chest.  _ Love you, Rex,  _ and she tries sleepily to soothe away his own fear and grief. He won't let her near his pain, which she supposes makes sense, given what she'd done earlier, but…

_ I know a little Force-healing, _ she tells him,  _ was going to use it but I'm tired, can't focus. Sorry. I'm sorry they shocked you. I'll be good, I promise, I won't let them kill you. I won't.  _

~~~

He shouldn't feel  _ relieved _ when she thinks that, but he's given up on corralling thoughts like that. He's too tired.

_Never mind,_ he hums. _I don't need healing._ _I'll be fine._

He looks at her hands again and knows she can't work with them like that, it would  _ destroy _ them, so he tears at the sleeve of his shirt, manages to rip it off entirely. He pulls her hands out from under the blanket and sets about bandaging the left hand, the way Kix showed him what feels like ages ago. He hopes the slavers will permit this, but he doesn't think Ahsoka will be able to work if he doesn't do this. He tears off his other sleeve, does the same for her other hand, his fingers fumbling a little on the knot.

His eyes are drifting closed, and he can't totally keep them open, knows he just has to sleep. He lets go of her hands, leans his head back against the wall.  _ Please try to eat _ , he says one more time, insistent. He's falling asleep even though all he wants to do is talk to her.

He kisses her head, then looks up in time to see their guards watching them, eyes gleaming with cruelty in the dim room. He closes his eyes, reaches for the waves of sleep and welcomes them. He can't spare the energy to be angry at the guards, and can barely spare enough to be afraid of them. He just wants to rest. He pulls Ahsoka tighter against his chest, sighs softly.

~~~

She can feel Rex falling asleep, and she _ wants _ to join him, but-- _ please try to eat, _ he asks, and she swallows. 

She can do this thing first. For Rex.

Ahsoka brings the bowl into her lap, carefully takes a few bites; once she starts, she realizes how _ hungry _ she is, and she finishes the food quickly. The simple act of eating takes what's left of her energy, though, and she sets the bowl aside with a shaking hand and curls closer to Rex. She reaches for his mind, nestling into the warmth and light and love he feels, and closes her eyes. 

The last thing she remembers, before she _ finally _ gives into her exhaustion, is Rex holding her like she's worth the world and whispering that it'll be okay. 

~~~

Rex wakes up to a sharp kick to his shins, and as he struggles free of the bonds of sleep, his arms tighten around Ahsoka automatically. To his surprise, he thinks it's Ahsri who kicked him; she's walking away from him, and as he looks up at her, her eyes flick toward the door.

The other slaves are already up and shuffling out of the room and Rex realizes if he doesn't get them up and moving,  _ now _ , the guards will do it for him. Panic wakes him up  _ fast _ and he stands, pulling Ahsoka with him, shaking her a little to try to get her awake. He pushes into her thoughts, interrupts a dream, yanks her mind awake. It's not kind but she finds her feet fast, letting out a groan. He walks them to the door, ignores his screaming muscles. They're handed their water and he sighs, lets himself relax a little, doesn't let go of Ahsoka just yet.

_ Good morning, _ he thinks, wearily.

It's another day.

They drink their water (Ahsoka is awake now, and thank the little gods she's actually thinking, focusing) and step onto the lift, and Rex rolls his shoulders, makes himself stretch.

They're put to work at the same thing as yesterday: breaking stone off the wall in chunks, just standing and swinging their pickaxes. Rex spots Ahsri partway across the cavern, doing some kind of mechanical work. He hopes she's alright but he can't spare the time to keep looking.

He is here to  _ work _ . Forget trying to make sure everyone else is okay - he'll do what he can do to make sure he's not punished, that nothing he does can hurt Ahsoka or the others.

He doesn't allow himself space to be angry.

~~~

Rex pulls her straight from a dream  (a pleasant one; she’s back on the  _ Resolute _ with Rex and the men and Anakin and Padme’s with them, for some reason, and she hatches a plan with Fives and Rex and Tup and catches Anakin  _ kissing _ Padme on a holo. Which, of course, is sufficient proof that she wins the betting pool. She’s jerked awake just as Rex leans in to kiss her, even though all the men are watching.) and she struggles to regain awareness, knowing he wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t important--it’s not the nice way to wake someone up. She groans softly, all her myriad aches and pains reasserting themselves, and stumbles against Rex’s side.

It takes her the length of the room, but she manages to find her feet, get her balance, regain her bearings before approaching the guard for her water. Rex keeps a gentle hold of her as they file onto the lift, and it’s only when they step out into the cavern that he lets go--because they’ll be punished if he doesn’t, she thinks.

Ahsoka keeps her head down, grabs a pickaxe and follows Rex to the wall, starts working. It  _ hurts _ and she’s still  _ tired _ but the sleep helped some and at least she’s able to  _ think _ today--although the fact that she’s not overextending herself trying to do multiple things at once is helping. The makeshift bandages around her hands are a lifesaver; she presses a rush of gratitude at Rex for his foresight, because after maybe an hour she can feel the injuries starting to tear open, blisters popping, blood starting to seep from the open wounds, but the bandages (which are just material torn from the sleeves of his shirt, she realizes) protect them from dirt and rocks getting lodged in the sensitive flesh. 

_ Thank you for waking me up, _ she tells Rex at one point, feels an answering hum of warm reassurance, a vague sort of idea that he wasn’t going to let the guards do it. Smart of him, because Force knows the Zygerrians’ idea of an alarm clock is probably a wake-up shock from the collar or a shock whip. 

Not exactly what she would call the best start to a morning.

She’s not  _ cheerful, _ this morning (that’d been a mistake, to think she could be  _ happy _ , could be  _ safe _ while she’s here), but she’s gone  _ numb, _ for the most part, disconnecting her mind from her body as best she can without totally slipping into the Force. It’s like a moving meditation, albeit a much more painful and exhausting one than the typical lightsaber drills she and Anakin usually do.

(Thinking about Anakin  _ hurts, _ because he was a slave and now he’s a slave again and she doesn’t even know if he’s still  _ alive _ or if the queen has killed him yet or--and she breaks the thought off, refuses to follow it to its conclusion.)

~~~

Rex doesn't quite mean to, but as the morning wears on he pulls back a little from Ahsoka’s mind, restricts their communication to just a hum of emotions in the back of his mind. It's strange - he's not sure he can ever  _ totally _ shut her out again, because there's almost a compass needle in his thoughts pointing back to her. He doesn't know what it means except that she can still sense more of his thoughts than he wishes she could.

He's long ago stopped trying to make sense of the mess in his head, because it isn't worth it and it makes him feel a little sick. He makes the mistake, just once, of thinking of his General and his men, Kix and Fives and Jesse, and the  _ shame _ the thought brings is too much so he pushes that away. 

He can't think about the mission, the fact that this was supposed to be a rescue, the feeling of  _ failure _ , or else he thinks he might try to fight again and that  _ is not an option _ .

Their guards give them more space today, maybe because they know that neither of them can really take more injuries and still be useful. Maybe because they're finally just  _ working _ , just doing what they're supposed to, like everyone else here.

Ahsoka presses against his mind, insistent, and he considers holding her off, keeping her at arm’s length. It would be easier to just  _ focus _ if he wasn't trying to talk to her too. But he still needs her, doesn't want to be alone, so he sighs and puts down his shields. He doesn't bother trying to hide his thoughts or his exhaustion. It's not worth the effort.

~~~

Ahsoka swallows at the exhaustion, the numbness, the self-hatred she can feel in every corner of Rex’s thoughts, but she doesn’t say anything. Not now, not when his mind so accurately mirrors her own. Instead, she just hums a  _ thank you _ at him, grateful that he’s not trying to shut her out.

She doesn’t think she could bear it, if he did, and she makes sure to let that thought float across to him. 

She’s exhausted, but she tries not to focus on that, instead letting the repetitive motion of swinging the pickaxe lull her deeper into meditation, into  _ calm, _ even though the Force-granted, fabled Jedi serenity is hardly  _ real _ tranquility--just letting the Force take her emotions away until she can deal with them some other time. It’s not the healthiest way to cope, she’s pretty sure, and the Temple mindhealers would no doubt chew her out for this, but… 

But give them a few days in a slave mine deliberately engineered to break Jedi and let them see how  _ they _ fare.

(Part of her knows she shouldn’t think this way, shouldn’t let viciousness take over--because she  _ knows _ that thought wasn’t in jest.

If she were a little less  _ tired, _ less ensconced in the Force, it might’ve scared her.)

~~~

He's only punished once that morning (or perhaps now it's afternoon, he's not sure), when his exhaustion gets the better of him and he falters, hesitates too long between strikes. One of the guards cracks their whip across his back, and he jolts, nearly drops the pickaxe.

_ Rex! _ Ahsoka feels worried, and he can tell she's hoping he'll be able to recover fast and get back to work. And he does. Tightens his fists around the pickaxe. Lifts it over his shoulder. Swings it down with a heavy clang of metal on stone.

Because he's exhausted and everything hurts, but something small and fierce and warm in his gut tells him he  _ cannot _ allow them to hurt her again.

It's the same feeling that tries to drive him to fight when, some time later, Zygerrians in gleaming armor come to get them, grab their arms and cuff them behind their backs. He stifles it, stares at the ground, and tries to reach out more to Ahsoka. He does put some effort into hiding the panic that's begun building in the back of his mind, especially as they're taken to the lift and it starts going up. He just wants them to leave him alone. He's tried his best, he's behaved, he's worked and he doesn't know what else he can do. They can't hurt them anymore, he wouldn't be able to  _ take it _ . He knows he wouldn't.

But he looks at Ahsoka and the tiny, fierce part of him says that he'll take it, if he must, so long as she's safe.

_ You can't afford to think like that _ .

The guards take them outside, into the sunlight, and rather than taking them to their sleeping quarters, march them past the long, low buildings towards the imposing structure they had seen on their first day here.

This isn't good. He forces himself to come out of his daze a little, to try and analyze the situation. They're bound, which makes it unlikely they're being taken somewhere to work. If he had to guess, he'd say the building they're being led towards is the main center of operations for the Zygerrians stationed here, including Keeper Agruss. These guards are a higher class of guard than those in the pit; the whips they carry have stylized handles, and they have blasters too. He hopes they aren't being taken to Agruss again, but it seems like the most reasonable assumption.

_ Not again _ . He doesn't want to face that slaver again.

Ahsoka’s thoughts feel soft against his and he realizes she's trying to calm him down; he's let his panic creep out of his control.

Grateful, he regulates his breathing, pushes down some of the deeper fears. He'll do what he has to, and they'll both survive.

~~~

Rex thinks they're being taken to Agruss again; Ahsoka doesn't _ want _ to think that, but she has to admit it's the most obvious conclusion. It scares her, though, or at least the little part of her still _ capable _ of fear. 

What have the Zygerrians found to punish them for now?

She _ knows _ they've been almost perfect today, neither she nor Rex willing to risk any further harm to the other, and the guards have found other slaves to entertain them--probably because the guards can tell they've nearly reached the limit of abuse their bodies can handle. If Agruss wanted to  _ gloat, _ he would’ve come back down into the pit like he had previously, to laugh at them in their low circumstances. She can’t quite parse out what bringing  _ them _ from the pit could do to prove a point.

It doesn’t make  _ sense. _

The guards bring them inside the command center. Agruss sits inside, a smug smirk on his face. (She feels a sharp satisfaction at his lack of repulsorlift chair and the myriad of small shrapnel wounds all over his  _ hideous _ face.) “Jedi!” he says cheerfully, and she shudders because Agruss  _ cheerful _ can only mean something bad.. “I have someone who wants to talk to you!”

He holds up a holocomm, and Ahsoka swears. 

_ Something bad _ is an understatement.

It's Dooku.

~~~

The guards push them both to their knees in a command center of sorts, and for the first time in days Rex thinks of Krell, of his snarling face.

When Agruss holds up a holocomm and the imposing figure of Count Dooku flickers to shape above his hand, Rex’s automatic reaction is shame and disgust. It's a reminder of the war he's supposed to be fighting, and he kneels here on the floor injured, cowed, and clothes in tatters.

He feels a surge of defiance in Ahsoka, and he glances at her, wishing he could follow her example and glare unflinching at their enemy. But he thinks he's too ashamed.

Dooku’s comm is a bad sign, although he isn't sure just what it means.

“Well, well. What unfortunate circumstances you find yourself in, Padawan Tano,” Dooku says, coolly, hands clasped behind his back. “I have heard such  _ interesting _ things about your progress.”

Rex’s heart pounds a dull, angry beat. He cannot treat her like that.

Maybe it's the knowledge that if Dooku is here, things can't get much worse, that they might die anyway. Maybe it's the reminder of war and the reason they're here, and the fact that none of the colonists are here to pay for their mistakes.

Rex is  _ angry _ , burning, and he grits his teeth so he doesn't speak up. That's still not safe.

~~~

How is  _ Dooku _ involved with this mess?

The sight of the Separatist leader throws Ahsoka rapidly back into the war she’s almost forgotten about, these past couple days; the terrified slave disappears, the decorated (though less so than her Master) war hero reemerging. (It’s a farce, because underneath it all she’s still  _ scared _ and numb and breaking, but she’s not about to let  _ him _ know that.) But  _ why _ is he here? The last she’d known, Zygerria wasn’t a part of the CIS, but…

“Count Dooku,” Ahsoka spits out hatefully, letting the anger she feels at the Sith Lord take over, carry through the numbness, giver her power and the urge to  _ fight. _ “What do you  _ want?” _

“I merely wished to congratulate Keeper Agruss on his extraordinary achievement, Padawan Tano,” Dooku says, and his voice is smooth as silk, but  _ oily _ and disgusting. “You are a very spirited young woman. When I heard he’d broken you, I couldn’t resist.”

“Well, you heard wrong,” she snarls, and  _ hopes _ the angry words hide the hollowness in her heart. (She’s not sure she’s successful.)

Dooku shrugs, as though it doesn’t matter to him either way. “Broken or not, you will still be executed--you  _ and _ your captain.”

(She finds herself thinking she’d rather be executed than live another day in this hell.)

And then one of the Zygerrians says, “A slave ship just made an unscheduled landing--”

_ “Skywalker!” _ Agruss snarls--but Ahsoka can’t let herself hope. There’s no  _ escape _ from here. She’d tried that once, and Rex had nearly been  _ killed _ for her effort.

“No comment, Padawan?” Dooku asks, and the smugness just grows. “You truly  _ are _ broken. If Skywalker doesn’t surrender, I have ordered the slaves to be terminated--in his name.”

The cold comes back, and the numbness with it, and Ahsoka almost,  _ almost _ says  _ what do I care, _ except she remembers Ahsri’s kindness and knows she  _ does _ care, and Anakin will too. 

Dooku’s hologram flickers out.

And Agruss brings forward a datapad. “You  _ will _ tell Skywalker the consequences for his actions,” he growls out, giving the datapad to a guard, who holds it in front of her face. The screen flickers on, reveals a view of a door.

As she watches, Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Artoo back into the frame, and for a moment Ahsoka can’t even  _ breathe, _ because he looks a little worn and singed around the edges, but her Master is  _ there, _ so close she can almost touch him, and--

Another guard jabs the tip of his electrostaff under Rex’s chin, and she swallows, gets the message. She takes a deep breath (there’s a voice in her head chanting  _ survive, survive, do what you’re told so you don’t get hurt _ and she can’t ignore it). “Master,” and she chokes on the word, remembering shock whips and Rex screaming and the worst pain she’s ever felt before, and she can’t keep going.

At the sound of her voice, Anakin  _ spins, _ so fast she almost expects him to fall over, finds whatever screen her face is displayed on. “Snips!” He’s grinning, but then he  _ looks _ at her and the smile turns to an absolutely  _ murderous _ rage. “Who  _ did _ this to you?”

And she  _ wants _ to tell him, she wants to explain, but she flicks her eyes over to Rex and sees the cruel way the guard threatening him is smiling, and Rex’s thoughts are silently pleading with her not to fight, just survive (and he’s  _ hating _ himself for it). “You have to surrender,” she says instead. “They’re going to kill the colonists if you don’t.”

To her horror (but not to her surprise), Anakin shakes his head. “I’m  _ done _ making deals with  _ slaver scum,” _ he hisses.

“You  _ can’t _ fight them!” Her voice is rising and she thinks some of the fear and pain is visible--she tries to lock it back down, reaches for the numbness again, falls back into the Force with some difficulty.

“What did they  _ do _ to you, Ahsoka?” and the question is little more than a horrified whisper.

She closes her eyes. “You  _ have _ to know you can’t win this alone. Not this time,” and she tries to keep her voice from shaking. (She is numb, she is the Force,  _ there is no emotion, there is peace.) _

“Who says I’m  _ alone?” _ There’s a pause, and then: “Just hang on, Snips. I’m coming for you.”

And the transmission cuts out.

“Keeper, our scanners are picking up warships coming out of hyperspace,” a Zygerrian says nervously.

“Jedi reinforcements.” Agruss sounds almost  _ amused. _ “There is nothing they can do. I have the Padawan and the clone. If the slaves’ demise doesn’t stop the attack, the threat of losing one of their own  _ will.” _

Pawns, then. They’re just  _ pawns. _ And the sickening thing is it’ll  _ work, _ because Anakin isn’t going to be able to let them kill her. (She almost reaches for their training bond, to tell him, but something stops her--she knows she won’t be able to shield everything from him, and she doesn’t want him to find out how  _ broken _ she is. How she’s abandoned everything the Jedi stand for, here in this mine.)

She concentrates for a moment, feeling through the Force for a pair of familiar vibrations; her lightsabers are  _ here, _ somewhere. If she could just get this  _ kriffing _ shock collar off…  _ we can’t fight them, _ a part of her mind whispers, but she’s  _ angry. _ How  _ dare _ they use her  _ against _ Anakin? She can’t let that happen.

They have to fight.

_ Rex, _ she thinks, reaching for his mind,  _ if Anakin’s going to be able to save my people, we  _ **_have_ ** _ to take control of this room. _ A pause, while she lets that sink in.  _ I think I can get the collars off, and I can feel my ‘sabers here somewhere… _

She’s asking him to fight.

Not outright, but that’s the  _ obvious _ conclusion to her train of thought. She can’t make herself ask any clearer, though. (She remembers,  _ I can’t do a ‘next time’, Ahsoka, _ remembers him  _ screaming _ and writhing on the floor, and she can’t ask. Can’t ask him to fight, because they’re the only ones here to be punished.)

The Force burns with anger, with desperation, with her desire to  _ survive. _ She gathers it all in, builds up a wave of power--waits for Rex’s response--prepares to pull her collar from her neck.

Ahsoka opens her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cliffhanger endings? #sorrynotsorry


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the last chapter of the fic! There isn't a great ending yet because it's all sad, but DON'T WORRY, we are writing a follow up recovery fic because after this insanity we need it. Thanks for sticking with us!
> 
> Note: There was an error and Chapter 2 was posted without it's first 4000 words - which contain some important scenes, so please do go back and look over that again.

She's asking him to fight. He feels she's scared to really tell him what she wants him to do, sees the memory that's stopping her.

But he  _ can't _ . He can't do this again. He knows she’s right, that Anakin needs them to help, and that should be enough to rouse him, but something in him feels asleep, dead even, heavy and exhausted. The guard still stands next to him with that electrostaff and Rex just doesn’t want to have to feel that anymore, the pain that he can’t even fight for fear of hurting someone else.

He’s not strong enough for this, not strong enough to take the pain anymore; when he thinks about fighting the burns on his neck  _ throb _ , a reminder of what will happen to him if he does fight, and he just can’t take that  _ again _ .

He feels Ahsoka getting ready, feels she’s going to fight, senses that ancient Force again, and part of him  _ panics _ , because this is what happened  _ last time _ and he doesn’t want anymore pain. He’s had enough. He’s shaking, and although he’s ashamed he finds he  _ cannot _ move, can’t promise her he’ll fight with her.

But he’s at least strong enough to hide that from her so she can do what she has to.

Ahsoka’s hands curl into fists, and her collar shorts out and peels away from her neck like crumpling paper. Rex’s guard lifts his electrostaff and Rex only has time to flinch away before the guard is thrown back and slams hard against the wall.

Agruss is shouting and Rex feels his collar break open and fall with a clatter to the floor, and it’s such a  _ relief _ he almost forgets that he can stand now. He sways a moment on his knees, then grits his teeth and summons strength from somewhere (he doesn’t even know how) to shove himself to his feet. He sees Ahsoka ducking out of the way of a few blaster shots and has the presence of mind to run to the side of the room, drop into a crouch behind a series of control panels - he ends up right by the guard Ahsoka had thrown away from him and he grabs the guard’s blaster.

He grits his teeth and stands again, automatically fires at the guards. His aim isn’t good but he still drops most of his targets. Ahsoka’s hands aren’t cuffed together anymore, she holds her right arm slightly extended, and Rex can feel her reaching for her sabers.

If she can get them back, they could actually do this. The realization sends a thrill of hope and relief through his limbs and he shoots a guard who takes aim at Ahsoka.

~~~

Ahsoka throws a few guards back with judicious Force-pushes, dodges a couple blaster bolts, and then throws her hands up directly in the path of another bolt. A touch of the Force and the bolt hits her binders, snapping them; she doesn’t hesitate, just  _ reaches, _ extending her right hand and  _ calling. _ Her green ‘saber responds to her call, singing in the Force, and she just has to hold out long enough for it to come to her.

She steals an electrostaff from a guard on the ground, twirls it in her left hand (not as accurately as she would like, but it  _ works, _ well enough, at least), and then she  _ hurls _ it across the room, into another Zygerrian, as her ‘saber slams into her palm. She reaches her left hand out, calling for her other ‘saber, and ignites the first blade, holds it defensively. Her other ‘saber comes more quickly, and she ignites it, too, and then she throws herself on the offensive.

She’s  _ done _ letting them control her. Letting them  _ use _ her to control Rex.

The Force flows into her (and she’s going to  _ pay _ for this, later), filling her to the brim with energy and power and  _ strength, _ and she vaults from her crouched stance, slashes through a pair of guards. A shock whip hisses out (a part of her flinches at the sound), and she flips over it, a thought and a gesture deactivating it for long enough she can slice the handle in half. The next thing she slices in half is the whip’s owner.

Ahsoka’s not sure that should feel so…  _ good. _

It’s  _ intoxicating, _ in a way, and as soon as she realizes that (as soon as she accepts it?) a rush of power fills her veins, a wild light coming into her eyes. She pulls on the Force again (more and more of it floods her, burying her screaming body in waves of pure  _ power), _ speeds her motion until she’s just a blur flipping through the ranks of the guards. Rex is laying down cover fire, for which she’s thankful, but at the same time she doesn’t  _ need _ it. Not right now. Not with the Force in every breath and beat of her heart. She cuts the Zygerrians down, and she laughs as she does it. It feels  _ good, _ a thrill of power in her blood, the huntress within her awakened.

These people  _ used _ her, like she’s just a toy, just  _ bait, _ they used her to  _ hurt Rex _ and now they want to use her to  _ force _ Anakin to surrender.

She  _ hates _ them.

She wants them  _ dead. _

(A part of her wants them all to  _ suffer, _ the way she has, to be forced to sit and  _ watch _ because trying to stop it makes it worse.)

There’s raw strength in her hatred; something faint in the back of her mind warns her away, some half-forgotten Initiate lesson, but she’s so  _ exhausted _ and her reserves of energy and willpower are almost gone--she has to use everything she can.

So Ahsoka stamps down the voice screaming at her that  _ this is wrong, stop, _ and she lets hatred and rage fill her to the brim, and she  _ smiles. _

(She catches a glimpse of herself in the reflection off one of the control panels, and her eyes are studded with gold.)

~~~

Rex has never been happier to see her sabers, and he feels ferocity and power rushing through Ahsoka’s mind, displacing the fog that’s been there for days. He feels some of it himself, energy pulsing hot in his blood, and he can almost ignore his pain. Raising his blaster, he takes out two Zygerrians easily, dodges out of the way of an electrostaff and shoots the Zygerrian holding it.

He spins just in time for a blaster bolt to slam into his weapon, destroying it and snapping his cuffs all at once. If he hadn’t turned, he’d have been shot in the side.

He got lucky.

He snatches a fallen electrostaff off the ground, hopes to replace it with a blaster as soon as possible. There’s still power washing over him from Ahsoka’s mind though, and it’s almost  _ easy _ to just use the electrostaff. Duck under a clumsy thrust, drive his shoulder into the guard’s stomach, follow up with the staff to his stomach. Let them taste some of their own cruelty, he thinks, and, still holding his new staff, grabs a blaster from his fallen opponent’s holster. He guns down some of Ahsoka’s attackers (although she hardly needs him just now) setting his sights on Agruss, who has retreated to the side of the room, well out of the way of the fighting. The karking coward.

He feels a sudden wave of icy hatred, and for a moment he doesn’t even realize it doesn’t originate from him. He stabs his staff into a guard’s chin, forcing his head back, possibly killing him, and whips his head around to look at Ahsoka because now that he’s paying attention, her thoughts are scaring him because they’re mostly just  _ anger _ and hate and a desire to make them all  _ pay _ .

He doesn’t quite know why that scares him (he’s nothing but anger too, and it’s felt good to kill these slavers, and this is just  _ justice _ ), except that she’s smiling as she kills and she feels  _ wrong, cold _ .

She isn’t like this, isn’t supposed to be, and he reaches out to her without really thinking about it (shoots a guard in between the eyes and keeps moving so he doesn’t get shot himself).

_ Ahsoka? _ The raging fire in his chest goes out, replaced by worry and fear because this doesn’t feel right, and this isn’t  _ like her _ . She doesn’t respond, and he pushes harder for her attention.  _ Ahsoka, what are you doing? _

She’s still fighting, doesn’t even pause, and Rex has never seen her move so fast, fight so ruthlessly. It would be incredible, beautiful even, except he can still feel ice-cold fury.  _ It’s fine, Rex, _ she thinks, and kriff, she doesn’t even sound right. She sounds distant, like she doesn’t even know why he’s worried. There aren’t many Zygerrians left, although Rex is sure reinforcements are on the way.

_ It’s not fine, _ he thinks, and finds himself blocked out of most of her thoughts by shields he can’t even hope to get past.

_ You don’t understand _ .

That much is true. Rex takes a moment to slam his electrostaff into a downed guard who’d been trying to get back up. There’s an anxious twist in his stomach and he pushes against her shields because he knows, instinctively, that he can’t let her do this, whatever  _ this _ is. She actually looks at him this time, and the expression on her face is a fierce kind of triumph, a predatory smile. And her eyes, normally so blue and soft, have gone partly gold and so, so  _ sharp _ .

He takes a step towards her, goes to try to get her attention again, and suddenly a loud crash draws his attention to a bank of control panels against the wall, where Agruss stands destroying the controls themselves. The display shows red, and he doesn’t quite understand but the slavemaster is sneering, yellow eyes harsh.

Ahsoka’s mind becomes nothing but a gale of ice and fire, and he automatically retreats from her thoughts, shocked. He  _ doesn’t know what to do _ because, he thinks he has to stop her - but how can he if she won’t listen to him?

~~~

She loves Rex, she really does, but he needs to  _ stop _ pushing at her mind before he gets himself hurt. And he doesn’t  _ understand; _ he doesn’t know how  _ empty _ she is, how  _ useless _ she’d be without the fury fueling her. She  _ needs _ this power, every last drop of it.

She can’t let her people die, and she  _ knows _ what that red display means.

Ahsoka sprints over to the terminal, curses in Huttese and Mando’a and a few other languages; Agruss  _ laughs _ and she spins, stares at him, all the  _ rage _ coalescing into one single goal.

But first she has to make sure her people are freed.

She extinguishes one ‘saber blade, hooks it onto her belt, and stretches out one hand, Force-pulling a commlink into her palm. Adjusting the frequency to Anakin’s, she says, “Master. The Togrutans are on a platform at the base of this facility, and the Keeper’s programmed the floor to retreat and drop them all to their deaths. He’s destroyed the controls, so I can’t do anything about it from here. Rex and I have taken the control room and are secure for now. Tano out.”

She casts the commlink away from her--it doesn’t matter, now. (In the back of her mind, where her training bond with Anakin resides, she can feel her Master nudging at her--concern and worry foremost in his thoughts. She redoubles her shields, presses him out. She can’t let him in, can’t let him see.)

The only thing that matters is Agruss.

Ahsoka stalks towards him, both her ‘sabers alight once more, the Force practically  _ vibrating _ around her with her anger and intent. She’s a huntress, a predator, moving with all the lithe grace of a lioness, and every inhibition has been stripped away from her: there is only her, her anger, and the Force. Agruss isn’t afraid, yet (he’s too stupid, probably), and she knows why--he thinks he’s broken her.

And he has. That’s why he’s going to die.

“You won’t kill me,” the Zygerrian says confidently, an easy smile on his face. “It’s against Jedi principles to kill an unarmed man.”

She comes to a stop just inches away from him, raises her ‘sabers, and her voice is dark and dangerous. “You shouldn’t have pushed me, Keeper Agruss. You made me abandon all those  _ Jedi principles _ in your mine. What’s one more?” For the first time, she sees real  _ fear _ in his eyes, the realization of what’s coming for him, and she  _ smiles, _ cruel and cold. Deadly. “You shouldn’t have broken me,” she breathes.

And she prepares to strike.

~~~

Rex’s heart is pounding in his throat, one thought repeating over and over: she can’t do this. Never mind that he wants to see Agruss dead just as much as she does, never mind that he wants to rip every one of these slavers into a thousand pieces, he can’t let her kill Agruss, can’t let her  _ be this _ .

He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even think lest she try to stop him. He lifts the electrostaff, takes the balance one more time. He feels steady, certain, more  _ himself _ than he has in days.

He hurls the staff over Ahsoka’s shoulder with all the strength left in him, so close it almost clips her headtails. It slams into Agruss,  _ through _ him, and the slavemaster’s last expression is one of surprise, murdered by one of the slaves he’d so thoroughly broken.

Rex fights the urge to  _ laugh _ , hysterical and desperate.  _ Finally _ .

Ahsoka turns, switching off her sabers and fixing him with a glare. He thinks, for a second, that he should be  _ scared _ (and he would be, if he wasn’t so tired), and he reaches out for her again, tries to project comfort and warmth.  _ It’s alright, Ahsoka, _ he tells her.

The guards are dead. Agruss is now too. Anakin is helping her people. He takes a step towards her, holds her gaze, presses more insistently against her shields.

_ (He shouldn’t have pushed himself to fight so hard; everything is beginning to hurt again and he’s swaying a little, dizzy.) _

It still feels dangerous, but he forces actual words past a lump in his throat, hoarse and quiet. “We’re safe now. You can put those away.” He doesn’t  _ feel _ safe, but everything’s silent and, for now at least, it’s all  _ over _ .

~~~

Ahsoka stares at Rex for a long moment. The anger and dark, ice-cold  _ power _ whispers that he’d kept her from killing Agruss, that he’d gotten her hurt, that--

But  _ no, _ that’s not true. It’s  _ not. _ His mind still nudges very gently against hers, although tentatively, like he’s nervous or unsure, and some part of her suddenly wonders just what she looks like to him.

She turns back, stares at Agruss’ body. He’s dead. She and Rex are the only living things in the room. “We… did it,” she says, and it’s almost a question.

They’re  _ out. _

The anger drains away, the overwhelming rush of the Force fading too, and she clips her ‘sabers to her belt, stumbling a little as her energy leaves her. Rex looks  _ worried, _ and she’s not quite sure why; she tilts her head to one side questioningly. “What’s wrong, Rex?” (Speaking out loud still feels  _ wrong, _ forbidden.)

He hesitates. “Are you okay, Soka?”

At first, she doesn’t understand--why  _ wouldn’t _ she be okay? And then she thinks of the  _ coldness _ of her anger  _ (anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering, the path to the Dark Side), _ the power of it--

“Oh,  _ stars,” _ she chokes out, feeling the blood drain from her face. Her gaze drops down to her hands, still wrapped in the bloodstained makeshift bandages. “Oh, Force. What have I  _ done?” _

~~~

The cold disappears faster than Rex had expected, and instead there’s  _ horror _ . Rex knew there would be, but it still terrifies him how fast she’s suddenly falling toward panic. He can’t track her thoughts really, she’s not focusing on anything, and he drops the Zygerrian blaster on the floor and staggers towards her (his legs aren’t cooperating but he manages to get to her anyway). He puts his arms around her and she  _ flinches _ , but then latches onto him tight.

He can tell she’s afraid of herself, angry at herself, and she’s trembling all over.  _ Look what I did _ \- and the thought isn’t really aimed at him at all, it’s just fear and guilt -  _ I liked killing them, I wanted them to suffer, I don’t- I don’t know what happened I was just angry and they’re going to be so angry, they’ll send me out of the Order, Anakin’s going to be so disappointed, they’ll say I’ve Fallen- _

Rex doesn’t know what to  _ do _ , so he just holds her tighter, tries to tell her it’s okay (even though it isn’t, none of this is right). “You’re fine now, Soka. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but it’s going to be okay.”

They have to leave, have to get on the Republic cruisers and get the hell out of here. Anakin and General Kenobi probably still need them - he hopes they’ve managed to save the colonists. But Ahsoka is panting and her mind is still running in circles and she’s in no condition to be fighting again - for that matter, he’s not sure he could manage it.

~~~

Ahsoka clutches at Rex almost desperately, closing her eyes and pressing her face into his chest. “I can be expelled from the Order for this,” she murmurs into his shirt, and she feels so  _ small, _ and cold in an entirely different way. “Master--he’ll hate me. Rex--” and she’s almost hyperventilating, her voice cutting off.

They have to  _ go, _ she knows, but she’s  _ shaking _ and she can’t  _ breathe _ and she’s so ashamed-- _ how am I supposed to face him? _ she thinks, not entirely meaning to project it but projecting anyway. Because she really doesn’t  _ know. _

She knows Rex isn’t at all okay, either, and she wants to do something to  _ help _ but she can’t seem to stop  _ panicking, _ her mind whirling. The memory of how  _ good _ the power had felt  _ sickens _ her, and for a moment she almost thinks she’s going to vomit.

She doesn’t. She has better control than that.

Rex is whispering nonsense words to her, rubbing his fingers in soothing circles on her shoulder and back, projecting calm and love; it takes a few minutes, but Ahsoka finally manages to relax a little, to drag her mind out of the vicious cycle it’s stuck in. The horror and shame and guilt and pain don’t go  _ away, _ but they’re at least  _ muted _ by her extreme exhaustion. She’s sick and scared and so, so  _ lost, _ and she pulls back a little, reaches up and tugs Rex’s forehead down to press against hers, closing her eyes and just  _ breathing. _

_ I’m so sorry, Rex, _ she thinks, feeling tears slip down her cheeks.  _ So sorry… _

…

They’re both dizzy and swaying on their feet by the time they make it out to the landing platform where Anakin’s trying to get a transport down to pick them up. Ahsoka refuses to let go of Rex, even when Anakin comes running up to her, his horrified gaze taking in the myriad of injuries across her and Rex’s bodies. She sees the way his eyes go from the burns on their necks to the wicked lash-marks on her headtails, to the bloodstained fabric wrapped around her hands, and he  _ burns _ with rage so intense she can feel it in the ambient Force. He takes a single step towards her with that anger in his eyes and she can’t help it--she flinches.

Anakin freezes. “Snips?” he whispers, and his voice is  _ raw _ with pain and confusion and hurt.

“Not now, General,” Rex manages,  _ “please, _ sir.”

Anakin doesn’t understand, but he nods, gestures to the transport. There are a few clones inside, members of the Wolfpack, Ahsoka thinks; she clings to Rex, curls small into his side as they sit on the floor, and hides in his head.

(Not that his head is much better than hers, at the moment.)

They meet up with the  _ Resolute _ above the planet--which Ahsoka learns is called Kadavo--and as soon as they dock she’s nearly overwhelmed by what feels like half the battalion. It’s really just Kix and Jesse and Fives and Tup, and a few others, but she still shrinks back against Rex and watches with wide eyes.

She doesn’t feel  _ safe, _ even among her own  _ men, _ and she  _ hates _ it.

Kix doesn’t even say a word, just  _ looks _ at her and then at Rex, and then closes his eyes. But she knows he’s going to drag them both off to the medbay as soon as possible, and there’s something she needs to know first, so she turns to Anakin.

“Master?” she asks, hesitant, trying to pretend she doesn’t stumble over the word (knowing he of all people notices the almost imperceptible jerk). “What happened to the colonists? There’s--someone I have to thank.”

“I can have Master Plo deliver a message for you?” Anakin offers.

Ahsoka nods, carefully, so that the whole ship doesn’t start spinning. (She  _ knows _ Kix can tell, because the pained lines on his face just deepen.) “Have him--tell Ahsri thank you. From me.”

Her Master nods once, solemn, understanding. “I will, Snips. You and Rex need to go with Kix, now, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispers.

She only makes it halfway to the medbay before she passes out.

~~~

Rex can't look at his men. He's too ashamed, and he doesn't want to see the pity and fear in their eyes. Fives tries to talk to him on the way to the medbay, and Rex clings to one-word answers until Fives falls silent.

He keeps one arm around Ahsoka’s shoulders, supporting her, keeping her close. Everything feels like  _ too much _ after days in the pit; it's all durasteel and bright lights and the concerned voices of his brothers and he finds himself still expecting to hear screaming.

When Ahsoka passes out he almost, almost panics, except Kix is right there, offering his support. Rex doesn't want to let go of her (even though he's just not  _ strong enough _ to carry her), but Kix says, “I have her, Captain,” and he makes himself let Kix heft her gently into his arms.

He's staggering himself, but he takes steady, deliberate steps so his men won't worry (they're already worried, he knows that, but he pushes himself anyway because he can't let them know how bad it really is).

“Captain, what  _ happened _ down there?” Tup asks quietly, and Rex swallows, makes himself walk faster.

“It doesn't  _ matter, _ Tup,” he growls. He can't talk about it, not now, not today. He just wants to rest and sleep.

“We have your armor and blacks,” Jesse says, awkwardly, and Rex nods. He wants his armor back, wants to feel safe again.

“Thanks.”

Kix lays Ahsoka down in the medbay, and immediately half a dozen medical droids and a few clones surround her. It's all Rex can do not to run to her, chase them away.

“I want you on a bunk, now,” Kix tells him, and his friend sounds weary and anxious.

Rex nods, tiredly walks across the room and sits down on one of the bunks. He doesn't want to lay down, it's too vulnerable, but Kix gives him a  _ look _ and he obeys. “I'm sorry, Kix,” Rex manages (he's so tired and it finally catches up to him, the exhaustion and pain and relief), trying not to tremble too much.

Kix’s jaw tightens and he nods. “You're fine, Captain.”

Rex drifts off on his own, vaguely worried about Kix as he loses consciousness.

~~~

Ahsoka snaps awake all at once, though general _ awareness _ is slow to return; someone's moving around by her, and she can't feel Rex beside her, and--

The person _ touches her. _

“No!” she yelps,  _ flinging _ them away with the Force (where is she where's Rex did they kill him is this some new punishment), and she scrambles from the strange bed--crashes to the floor in a tangle of tubes and electronics--frantically pushes herself into the nearest corner. “Rex?”

_ Rex! _ she shouts desperately, her heart pounding a rhythm in her chest like it's about to burst free. She can't seem to get a breath, can't focus, and she's speaking _ and _ using the Force and she flinches, swallows a scream. 

Her whole body _ hurts _ and she waits for the whip, for her collar, “I'm sorry I'm sorry I didn't mean it please don't,” and she realizes she's babbling but she can't stop. 

Where's Rex? 

~~~

Kix gets up, fast, and runs around the bunk to try and get Ahsoka calmed down and back in bed. She scrambles away from him and huddles in the corner, calling suddenly and loudly for Rex.

She's hyperventilating and her eyes aren't focusing on anything. Kix crouches in front of her, feeling overwhelmed.

He's a field medic, he doesn't know what to do for this. “Commander Tano? Ahsoka. Listen to me, I need you to breathe.”

She just backs further against the wall, and Kix doesn't dare reach out to her. He'll scare her more and maybe get himself tossed across the room again and that would be bad.

She starts  _ apologizing _ , something about “I didn't mean it please don’t.”

_ What happened to them _ ?

“Rex is  _ fine _ , Commander. He's just sleeping.”

He wants to ground her, because if she can register where she is he could get her back in her bunk and do something for her injuries. Right now he's worried she's making everything worse.

(He's never seen her like this and hopes he never has to again.)

“How about if you breathe with me, we can get you a bunk closer to Rex,” he says gently.

~~~

It takes a few moments for the word _ Commander _ to register, but it finally does; so does the instant the person talking to her ( _ talking,  _ not going for a whip) mentions Rex. He says Rex is _ sleeping,  _ but if that's so then where? Rex is supposed to be _ with her. _

At her back. 

And then Ahsoka realizes it's _ Kix,  _ in front of her, memory returning in a flash, and she lets out a soft sound and hides her face in her torn up hands. “I'm-I'm _ sorry,  _ Kix,” she chokes out, shoulders shaking. “I--threw you across the room?”

The medic nods, although he looks pleased (or maybe just relieved she's not crazy) that she recognizes him. “Don't worry about it, Commander,” he says, carefully casual. “Let's get you back in bed.”

He extends one hand and she can't help but flinch. “Please--I need to see Rex,” she tells him, and she's almost begging but she doesn't _ care.  _ “Please, Kix.” He still looks unsure about her reactions and she swallows. “They had shock collars on us and we couldn't talk or stop or anything,” she murmurs, tries not to cry. “They used Rex and I against each other.” And now she thinks he understands a little more. “Please let me see him?”

~~~

_ Rex! _

_ Her shout echoes across the pit and he spins, even though he can't, shouldn't. She's been grabbed by the Zygerrians and they shove her onto her knees, press an electrostaff against her throat. _

_ “Ahsoka!” He pushes himself to run to her when suddenly his collar activates, sends him to his knees, and he can't move. He doesn't even try to stop it, just lets the screams rip out of him, lets blackness take him. _

_ He can't do it and he doesn't care. _

…

When Ahsoka tells him just that smallest thing about their experience, Kix thinks this is all far, far worse than he'd thought. But he stands, helps her to her feet, and nods. “Of course you can see him, Commander. You can have a bunk next to his if you promise not to wake him.” They'll have to switch over all the equipment but he needs her at least somewhat calm if he's going to be able to work.

“Okay. Thank you, Kix,” Ahsoka says. She sounds exhausted and ashamed, and won't meet his eyes. Kix takes her over to his Captain’s bunk, has her sit down on the nearest bed. Rex seems to be having a nightmare and Kix wishes he could stop it; Rex needs  _ rest _ and their nightmares don't help. But it will pass, and hopefully Rex will sleep for at  _ least _ a few more hours. He wishes he could get Ahsoka to sleep longer but that seems unlikely now.

~~~

Ahsoka’s jerked out of the present by Rex's nightmare echoing against her, insistent and sharp. She stares at his sleeping form--the lines in his face--knows Kix won't be happy, but--

“I can help,” she says, doesn't explain, and closes her eyes, reaching for his mind. 

_ Rex?  _ She slips into his mind, projecting warmth and love and reassurance and calm, gently bleeding away the nightmare.  _ Rex, it's a dream. We're safe now. I'm safe. We're free.  _

(She swallows back her shame at the realization that her panicked mental shout for him seemed to trigger part of the nightmare.)

~~~

When Rex wakes up, it takes him a moment to recognize where he is, and he's afraid to move, barely wants to open his eyes.  _ Where is he, _ where's Ahsoka, what is this?

Then he starts to open his eyes and sit up and a firm hand pushes him back  _ down _ . He tenses, but he blinks sleep out of his eyes and it's Kix, frowning at him. “Don't you dare, sir,” the medic says, shaking his head.

Rex stays down, and as Kix pulls his hand away from his shoulder and steps away, Rex cranes his head and starts to ask where Ahsoka is - but Kix is working on her now. There are medical droids hovering over her too, but he thinks Kix is doing most of the work himself. He realizes, with a strangely strong surge of relief, that he’s out of his old clothes and boots and in a sleep shirt and pants.

“We're taking you both to Coruscant,” Kix says, sounding  _ exhausted _ . “I don't have the equipment here to deal with all those burns.”

“Is she okay?” Rex asks, and Kix snorts bitterly.

“No she's not, and neither are you, so lay  _ still _ and don't mess up your bandages.”

Rex could almost have smiled except that Kix isn't joking, isn't even trying to.

“General Skywalker says they're going to want to debrief you both,” Kix adds. “As soon as possible. But I don't think he's going to let them.”

Rex can't stop a relieved sigh at that - he doesn't want to talk about this mission with anyone. Not unless it means they'll listen to him and go destroy the Zygerrian empire, which he doesn’t think they will.

“Kriff, Captain,” and Kix pauses what he's doing for a moment and turns, and Rex automatically looks away because looking Kix in the eye would be too hard, “What did they… I'm sorry. What  _ happened? _ ”

Rex wishes people would stop asking him that. “I told you already, it doesn't  _ matter _ ,” he growls.

“It kind of does, Captain. But fine, you don't have to tell me. Just… everyone's really worried.”

They can  _ keep _ their karking worry, he doesn't want it.

~~~

She drifts, on waves of painkillers and the Force. 

Familiar voices are murmuring somewhere above her, but she doesn't _ care,  _ can't care. They aren't Rex.

She wants Rex. 

“Rex?” she whispers, the word burning her dry throat. He's supposed to be _ here,  _ with her. She _ needs _ him here. Needs her anchor.  _ Rex, where are you?  _

She doesn't want to open her eyes. She's afraid of what she'll see. 

~~~

Rex and Kix both hear Ahsoka’s small whisper and turn to her, and Rex automatically sends reassurance her way, an easy,  _ I'm right here. _

“Please don't move, Commander,” Kix asks. “We're trying to get your hands taken care of.”

Ahsoka opens her eyes and nods, and Rex has to make an effort not to get up and go over to her; the last thing Kix needs is him ignoring his orders.

_ Are you okay? _ he thinks, and he feels she's very out of it and tired.

_ Fine _ . She shifts on her bunk and Rex  _ knows _ that Kix is giving her a Look.

_ He says we're going back to Coruscant _ , Rex tells her. His head hurts and he wants to ask Kix for more painkillers. He hopes the idea will be comforting to her; the Temple (her home) is there, and proper healers.

She doesn't quite seem to register that, or else doesn't care, because her response is the mental equivalent of a sigh.

She feels  _ warm _ , and he reaches for the feeling, however slight, tries to wrap himself in it. He’s too empty, hollowed out and tired.

(She's still scared and cold in the back of her mind, and he pretends he doesn't notice because he doesn't want her thinking about that again.)

He's almost dozing again when the med bay doors slide open and General Skywalker comes in, so tense and controlled Rex knows he's  _ furious _ . He makes himself lie still, never mind that he suddenly feels like he isn't  _ safe _ . This is his General, he reminds himself. He's fine. This is all  _ fine _ .

~~~ 

_ Love you, Rex,  _ Ahsoka sends, feeling the emptiness inside him mirror the hollow in her own self. She tries to fill him with all the love and warmth and good things she can.

Anakin comes in, his anger echoing in the Force, and she instinctively flinches away before realizing just who it is. “Master,” she murmurs, tries not to choke on the word, “can you please be less angry?”

She feels rather than sees the way he _ stares  _ at her, and the fury grows for a moment before she can feel him breathing it out, slowly. “Sure, Snips,” he says, coming closer to her bunk. “How’re you feeling?”

Ahsoka hums a little. “Like I'm floating,” she says, almost lazily, and hears Kix whisper _ I've got her on heavy painkillers _ in the background. 

“I'm going to need some of those for the headache this whole mission is giving me,” Anakin says. “We're taking you and Rex to the Temple.” His voice softens. “They're going to want to know what happened, Snips--”

“No!” Ahsoka doesn't mean to shout, but she jerks away from him. “No! I can't, I _ won't--” _

“Commander,  _ please,” _ Kix says, half-strangled. “General Skywalker, sir, if you upset her you'll have to _ leave.” _

“Easy, Snips,” and Anakin lightly brushes her mind, projecting _ calm.  _ “You don't have to tell them anything, but if you told me a little bit _ I _ could tide the Council over until you're _ ready _ to debrief.”

She's shaking, and the raw _ hatred _ in her voice scares her more than she can admit. “Tell them to _ burn the whole kriffing thing down.” _

~~~

Rex  _ almost  _ sits bolt upright when Ahsoka panics, and it's only Kix’s obvious distress that stops him. He pushes warmth and calm at Ahsoka, feels General Skywalker doing the same thing (and  _ that _ is odd, for a second he feels Anakin’s mind and it's different and strange and yet familiar).

He feels her hatred resurfacing, icy despite her words.  _ Burn it down. _

He finds himself agreeing, wants to see it too. Send the whole planet up in flames, he doesn't care, just make sure no one else ends up as a slave to them again, ever.

(Part of him wants every stinking Zygerrian  _ wiped out _ but he at least has enough presence of mind to know that's dangerous, wrong.)

“Ahsoka…” Anakin glances at Kix, then over at Rex, like he's looking for help. “I'm sorry,” he says, running his hand through his hair. “Just… something?” He smiles, tries to joke.  “You know, something they won't expel me from the Council room for saying?”

Rex could tell the Council a thing or two, if they'd ever let him. This whole mission was their fault, and they deserve to hear about it, hear what a  _ terrible _ mistake they made. What they pushed one of their own to endure (and he's not even sure what happened to Anakin and General Kenobi). But he doesn't really want them knowing the extent of it either.

~~~

Ahsoka glances over at Rex, swallowing, reaches for his mind and some semblance of comfort. She doesn't _ want _ to say anything at all, knows how Anakin will react (not good). But…

“The mine was designed to break people,” she whispers, her throat gone dry. “Agruss turned the system into a way to break Jedi. They used the colonists against us. If we--messed up, they punished the others. And we couldn't _ help _ them or they just got punished more. Everything was our _ fault _ .” For a moment, she's _ back there, _ swallowing bile as she has to ignore another slave being whipped and shocked even though they _ can't get up, _ and she's shaking--maybe this is all an elaborate dream, maybe she's still _ there _ in the pit--

(She can feel Anakin reaching for her mind, but she shoves him aside, instead almost  _ desperately _ reaching out for Rex, for reassurance they're _ safe.) _

~~~

Hearing it out loud is  _ hard _ . Rex doesn't want to think about all of it again - he finds himself withdrawing into his thoughts, and it doesn't help that Ahsoka’s mind is suddenly full of vivid memories. She's  _ drowning _ in them and he's careful not to get pulled down too - when she reaches out for him he grabs tight, floods her with all the gentleness he can find, peace and calm.

_ We're fine, ‘Soka, _ he promises.

He’s relieved to find it helps a lot; she seems more grounded after a moment and Rex keeps in contact with her mind so he won’t slip himself.

He refocuses on the room and General Skywalker and finds that his General is staring at him, and if everything were less terrible Rex would laugh at the look on his face. “Um… Snips,” Anakin says, looking at Ahsoka. “Are you aware you’ve  _ bonded _ with Rex?”

This time Rex gives up on laying still. He pushes himself up onto his elbows, and Kix turns around like he  _ knows, _ sighs. “For kriff’s sake, Captain.”

It hurts, but not as much as Rex had feared. Painkillers are good.

“I…” Ahsoka looks genuinely shocked, and she glances at Rex. He’s not really sure what’s going on, but from the looks on their faces it’s probably something serious. “Well… That would explain a lot, actually.”

General Skywalker swears, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “How did you even do that?”

“I don’t know,” Ahsoka says, a little defensively, and she starts to sit up too except Kix pushes her back down, grumbling under his breath.

“All due respect, General,” Rex says, drawing their attention back to him. “But what the kriff are you talking about?”

Anakin sighs, clears his throat, and Rex feels a flicker of amusement at his evident discomfort. “Um, well there’s this thing called a Force bond, Rex.”

“Yeah, I heard that, sir.”

“It’s like… a connection between the minds of two people. Ahsoka and I have one, because she’s my Padawan. But it’s not really… Well, you and Ahsoka seem to have made a bond.”

Rex feels Ahsoka’s oddly nervous about that, and he’s not sure why - although he doesn’t exactly know how he’s supposed to react to that anyway. “Okay,” he says. “And?”

His General snorts, shrugs. “I don’t know, Rex, that doesn’t really happen. You’re not even a Force sensitive.”

Rex automatically nudges at Ahsoka’s mind, trying to figure out how she feels about all this. It  _ sounds _ like a very personal thing, this Force bond, and it also sounds like it’s existence is an accident. He doesn’t want to be connected to her mind if it makes things a problem, or if she thinks it’s too intimate.

He finds the concept doesn’t bother him - he thinks it will take time to figure out what he’s even feeling about it, but if that’s what they’ve been sharing for the past few days, he thinks he might be  _ grateful _ .

~~~

A Force bond?

It’s not what Ahsoka had  _ expected _ Anakin to say, but thinking back over the past few days she realizes the clues were there all along. How  _ easy _ it was (and still is) to talk to him, the way Rex--a non-sensitive, a null--can reach for her without her initiating the contact, the way he could  _ feel _ the Force when it answered her call. And she realizes she  _ wants _ this, wants to keep this tie that glows so strongly between them. It’s personal, yes, it’s  _ intimate; _ she thinks this bond is even deeper than the training bond she has with Anakin.

And then she freezes, because Rex might not _ want _ this. She didn't give him a  _ choice,  _ after all, just formed this bond (however she managed that). And he’s such a private person, he values his privacy so much--maybe this is invasive, uncomfortable to him.

She's surprised to find that the idea of breaking the bond that's been her lifeline sends sheer  _ panic _ through her, but she tries to muffle that, to let Rex choose. 

_ Are you okay with this? _ She tries to keep the question carefully neutral. She looks at Anakin. “The Council won't approve, will they?”

Anakin grimaces, and that's all the answer she needs. “But if you want to keep it, they don't have to know. I won't tell.”

Ahsoka looks at Rex, waiting. 

~~~

Rex is very careful when he answers her unspoken question, goes ahead and says it out loud, “It was useful,” he says, hesitantly. “Being able to communicate when we couldn’t speak.”  _ And I think I… like being that close to you _ , he admits to her only, hopes she feels the same.

There’s a warm agreement that feels like a promise. She wants this too, wants to stay connected to him in this intense way. He doesn’t even  _ understand _ that, for a moment.

Anakin catches his eye and actually smirks a little, and Rex looks away, suddenly embarrassed. “It’s settled then. I don’t have to tell them anything about it.” His General shifts from foot to foot, and he probably has to leave, but then he glances over at Rex. “Did you… is there anything I should tell them about your experience?”

Rex grits his teeth. “They did the same thing to me as Ahsoka.” He can’t keep an angry tremor out of his voice. “You can tell them if they don’t deal with the Zygerrians, I’m taking all the battalions that will follow me and I’m  _ doing it myself _ .” He’s avoided making waves after Umbara, but kark it, he knows if the other clones hear about Kadavo and the slaves on Zygerria, they’ll follow him. He doesn’t care if this makes the Jedi think he’s a threat. The battalions are more his than they are theirs, and this is important.

General Skywalker’s eyes go hard, and he nods. “I’d go with you.” He smiles, and it isn’t a real smile, just a baring of teeth. “I’ll tell them.” Then he reaches out, gently touches Ahsoka’s shoulder. “I’m here if you need me, Snips, you know that. Get better, please.”

“If you’re done here, General,” Kix says, turning and fixing Rex with a withering stare so he lays back down, “Tell me you’re going to get  _ some _ kind of medical attention.”

“I don’t need it,” Anakin says, and Kix scowls, crossing his arms.

“That isn’t up to you.”

Ahsoka frowns at Anakin too, and between her and Kix’s disapproval, General Skywalker throws up his hands. “ _ Shavit _ , fine.” He strides away, grumbling to himself.

Kix has Ahsoka’s hands stitched up and has bandaged some of Rex’s more serious injuries by the time they dock in Coruscant, and it’s he, Jesse, Fives, and Dogma who get the two of them to their new beds, more or less scaring off any medical droids or nurses who try to take over. Rex is grateful for them because moving into new surroundings has him flinching at most sounds, unwilling to look at any of them again because he knows right now it’s still obvious he’s not  _ right _ .

He’s supposed to be their Captain, but he doesn’t know how to go back to that. He can’t believe, somehow, that they’re sticking so close when he’s failed them.

_ They don’t know yet _ , part of him says.  _ When they find out what you did they’ll abandon you, and you will deserve it _ .

He projects calm he doesn’t feel towards Ahsoka, because he thinks she’s struggling more than he is with all the  _ people _ .

The doctors try to give them separate rooms, but before he’s even registered Ahsoka’s immediate rush of panic (which matches his own), Kix is shutting that down. “You want them in the same space, trust me on this.” One of the nurses tries to say something about  _ what would you know _ and Kix just  _ snaps. _ He informs her, in the iciest voice Rex has heard from him in a long time, that he  _ knows  _ his Captain and Commander and this is what will help them and if they don’t listen to him, they’ll regret it. Rex is grateful, although he feels undeserving of a defense that fierce.

They’re settled into their new room and Rex watches his men go, wishing he could ask them to stay, but the medics don’t want even Kix around.

Only Ahsoka’s presence keeps him from flinching every time the medics move where he can’t see them, and when they give him more painkillers and start working on his  _ neck _ , it’s just a soothing thought from her that keeps him from curling in on himself, away from their hands.

~~~

Ahsoka isn’t sure how long the doctors work on them, the first day; she knows they’re in the Temple, if only because of the way the ambient Force feels, serene and peaceful and  _ calm, _ flowing gently about her mind in quiet waves. The Force is stronger here, and the collective presence of so many Jedi mean its very essence is imbued with Light. She clings to that Light, lets it fill her, soothe her weary spirit. Rex can’t feel it the same way she can, but she still opens her mind to him, giving him a chance to feel the warm, comforting aspect of the Light.

He doesn’t really say much, but he seems at least to find some small measure of peace, and so she starts opening her mind to him whenever she meditates.

She likes to think it helps.

Bacta and bandages are applied to the more minor wounds, but for the worst injuries (like the burns on her headtails and on both their necks, and the shrapnel wounds on her hands) the doctors actually call in a Jedi to heal them. Ahsoka’s informed that there’s likely to be some lasting nerve damage in her hands, that she might find it difficult to hold her ‘sabers properly.

(She thinks back to the control room on Kadavo and very privately thinks she doesn’t see any damage at all.)

She still flinches when anyone moves suddenly, doesn’t like being touched by anyone other than Rex, and it still seems wrong,  _ taboo _ almost, to talk aloud. 

And she’s still haunted by the feeling of  _ power _ the Dark Side had given her.

(She tries not to feel like she’s trapped, here in this little room in the Temple; tries not to feel like she’s still a slave--just a slave for the Republic, the Jedi, instead of the Zygerrians. She tries to remember Rex’s promise to wipe out the Zygerrian empire and cling to that: as soon as they’re able, she and Rex will make  _ sure _ no one else suffers this way.

She tries, and mostly, she  _ fails.) _

It only takes her one night to decide sleeping alone isn’t going to be an option.

Ahsoka wakes, panicking, from a nightmare in which she and Rex are back on Kadavo, but instead of Togrutans, her fellow slaves are the men of the 501st; she tries to help them and only gets them hurt, and so she stops trying, and she hears them say,  _ it’s okay, Commander, we understand, you are a Jedi after all. _

She doesn’t scream, when she wakes, but that’s only because she can’t get enough breath in her lungs to make a sound. Kicking the blankets off and sitting up, she swings her legs over the edge of the bed, pushes herself to her feet and pads across the room to Rex’s bed. Her Captain is  _ awake, _ she sees when she makes it there (her legs are still weak, still sore).

_ Hello, _ she sends, smiles a little.

_ Hello, Soka, _ he responds.  _ Nightmares? _

She nods, glances down at the empty space on the narrow bunk.  _ Yeah. Do you mind if-- _

In answer, Rex scoots back and flips up the blankets, patting the mattress.  _ I had a nightmare, too, _ he admits.  _ I’m not used to sleeping without you. _

_ Neither am I. _ She doesn’t feel  _ safe, _ closing her eyes without his presence at her back. She feels him echoing those thoughts, faintly--they keep their bond closed down during the day, to try and hide it better from the Jedi healers. But now, still shaking, scared and sad and too  _ cold _ (the cold of the Dark Side still lingers in her bones, in the back of her mind, and she can’t quite shake it), Ahsoka reaches for the comfort of Rex’s mind, opening the bond up wide as she slides into the bed next to him.  _ I love you, Rexter. _

He smiles at her, his eyes soft and tender, and lifts one hand to brush his fingers across the white markings on her cheek and forehead.  _ I love you too, Soka. My Jedi. _

She closes her eyes, leans into his touch; he runs his hand down her shoulder and arm, finally wrapping it around her and tugging her against his chest.

She has no more dreams that night.

When the nurse comes in the next morning to wake them up, she seems…  _ confused, _ to say the least, and more than a little bit wary. Ahsoka doesn’t bother to explain the nightmares, the reason she’d crawled in with Rex in the first place, just obediently returns to her own bed.

It becomes a routine--she stops even  _ trying _ to fall asleep on her own, just curls up with Rex every night, because kriff the consequences, she  _ needs _ him, and he needs her too. And maybe she can’t ever tell the Jedi she loves him, maybe they’ll have to keep this a secret (maybe she’s not really cut out to be a Jedi after all), but  _ this is worth it. _ She knows that, as surely as she knows her own name.

She’s been broken, she knows, but Rex is the glue holding all her shattered edges together. Separate, they are fractured shards, jagged edges, sharp and bloody. But together?

Together, they are whole.


End file.
